


The Liberation of Capra

by megers67



Category: Treasure Planet (2002)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Colonialism, F/F, F/M, Resistance, Structural Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-05-09 02:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 58,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megers67/pseuds/megers67
Summary: A younger Amelia, searching for meaning after the losses of the Nebula War, joins a diplomatic mission to a distant colony. Despite assurances, the political situation on the world of Capra turns out to be far more complex than first expected - and an enigmatic spacer on Amelia's ship may hold the key to saving the planet and its people from exploitation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is being co-written with a dear friend of mine, Firefall Bangenthump on FF.net who will also be posting on his account there (if you would like to check out his other stories, I highly recommend them as he is a fantastic writer). Some moments may mention some of his previous stories, but they are not required for understanding. I have also made a Tumblr blog (https://sectorcrescentia.tumblr.com/) about our shared universe that includes stories we have published on our various platforms in addition to never-before-published works. It also includes headcanons, information about our original characters and more. I recommend you check it out if you are interested in what Firefall and I have created together.

For all its splendor and finery, Amelia never had much cared for the dress uniform. The attention for detail had always favored visual impact over personal comfort, a design philosophy amplified by the increasing might of rank. Luckily there were relatively few occasions it would need to actually be worn. Unfortunately this was one such event. The one year anniversary of the Battle at Parliament. While the rest of the Empire was busy creating long-standing traditions for the new holiday, Amelia was stuck here instead. At least she was allowed to bring a plus one. Her husband's presence kept her sane as she navigated the tedium of conversation. And there was a lot of it for her. As the fleet commander during the Battle, it seemed like everyone wanted an audience with her in one capacity or another. If the guest list was limited to highly ranked Naval officers, then the night would have been a pleasant affair, but alas, this wasn't so. Amelia found the conversations with members of Parliament particularly draining. Discussions of nuanced facets of politics had never interested her and the night was reaffirming her preferences. She managed to bear most of conversations long enough to be polite, but moved to a new group before her boredom became visible. 

She had just escaped one small group as she turned to her canid husband conspiratorially. "If I have to endure another 20 minute discussion about marginal seats I may well put my ceremonial saber to ill use."

"I'd advise against that dear," Doppler replied in kind. "Blood stains would be terribly difficult to remove from your dress uniform."

"Ah yes, too true. Pity, it was sharpened just this morning." Amelia began scanning the room in hopes of finding someone she was at least familiar with in some way, preferably another admiral. At least then she'd be able to participate in conversation. Her gaze fell upon a small crowd off to the side of the banquet room and figured that she could occupy at least some time satisfying her building curiosity.

As Amelia neared the group, she noticed that there was one voice, one that sounded familiar. At first, she was unsure if her suspicions were correct, even though she knew he'd be around somewhere. When the felinid and her husband finally made it to the group, her suspicions were confirmed. In the center was an old acquaintance animatedly telling a story to a captivated audience. She was surprised that she hadn't seen him earlier, though he was the type to find himself in the center of crowds this way. The bright colors the Capram dressed in stuck out like a sore thumb against the comparatively drab dress of Imperial elite fashion. A myriad of colors and patterns were brought together in some sort of chaotic celebration. Even though the trend was slowly beginning to change, Capram weren't often seen off of their home world. As such it didn't take much to remember this particular one, even if it had been the better part of two decades since they had last met.

"...But the Procyon sniper was perched in the tallest tower, picking off passers-by so we had to hide in the shadows." He flattened himself against the nearby wall, or at least as best he could with his horns in the way. At this point, he noticed Amelia's presence, but did not interrupt the cadence of his story telling. He was a professional after all. "We snuck to the building without being noticed. I know we were not noticed because we would have been slain where we stood. We tried to throw open the door, but the Procyons were smart as they were cruel. They had barricaded the door and windows to prevent intruders. But what they did not know was that we had a Capram!" 

A Macropdian who had been sitting nearby then stood and began gently maneuvering people to create an open path a few meters long. He was far more conventionally-dressed than the Capram and looked to be about middle aged, but was stockily built, large even for a Macropodian, and his fur was a dusty red rather than the more common grey or brown. He was also the only one who wasn't paying rapt attention to the story. Instead, he stood back and motioned to the Capram, a knowing smile of amusement on his face.

"So I did what any true Capram would do. I used my head!" At this, the Capram went into a sweeping and dramatic bow. However, instead of simply straightening again, he hurled himself headlong down the path, straight for the Macropodian. The Macropodian stepped slightly to the side and caught the colorful character with practiced ease, translating the momentum into a circular motion to prevent audience injury or a hole in the wall. The Capram gracefully stepped out of the twirl as if he had never charged in the first place. Amelia gathered they've been through this performance more than once or twice before. 

"Not knowing my own strength, I went clean through the door and down the hallway. I later heard that I completely trampled an unwitting enemy, but truth be told, I do not much recall the details of that. Whether or not I landed any kind of blow onto the guarding Procyon, Lord Bonner laid him low with this signature right hook! He then picked me up out of my daze while Privates Avery and Pryor went to secure the sniper." The story teller then fell into a hushed tone. "Now I cannot rightfully tell about what happened up there because I did not see with my own eyes or hear with my own ears." Then he grinned conspiratorially. "But I can tell you that I saw a grey shape screaming past the window before a sudden silence." 

He let the silence hang for a moment before affected a more casual stance, indicating the end of his tale. The small crowd politely applauded as others went up to both the Capram and the Macropodian for brief conversations. Amelia remained around while the group thinned until finally the last of the audience left the Capram alone. This allowed him to finally greet Amelia.

"Amelia! It has been so long!"

"Chaupi, it is good to see a familiar face." Amelia closed the gap between them. The two clasped arms at the elbows in a vigorous all-handed handshake. They separated after a moment allowing Amelia to introduce the canid by her side. "This is my husband, Dr. Delbert Doppler. Astrophysicist at the University of Montressor. And Delbert, this is Chaupi, an old friend from early in my career."

"Ah, then you are a cousin as well!" The Capram shook Doppler's arms in the same manner he had with Amelia who watched on in amusement. 

"Cousin?" Doppler asked in confusion. 

"I was made an honorary member of Chaupi's clan,” Amelia began.

"No, no, no," the Capram was quick to respond. "There is no 'honorary' member of a clan. You are Orea. My kin. And by marriage, you are as well, Doctor. Unless of course you have been painted without my knowledge!" 

"Oh! Well um... I'm honored. Well, not in an honorary... honored... Um. Well I'm glad to be part of the kin. Clan. Yes. I don't believe I've been... painted?" Poor Delbert was finding himself very lost in this conversation.

"Painted." The Capram bowed his head so Doppler could get a good look at the curling horns. They were brilliantly painted in an array of colors with black, grey, and white stripes among them. The canid noticed immediately that the horns weren't identically painted. The left and the right had completely different patterns, though some areas were the same. "It is so others know who I am before we even meet so we know how best to speak with each other. Though Imperial Standard has obscured the language needs, the tradition still stands. Cousin, do you remember? I know they've changed since we last saw each other."

"Hm." Amelia stepped forward. It had indeed been a while since she's last had to think about the significance of the colors, but she could recall at least some basics. "Congratulations are in order. You've married and had... two children? And you've been made an elder of some kind, though I'm not familiar with what that cap means." She pointed to a silver cap on the tip of his right horn.

"Yes, correct!" The Capram, who Doppler was swiftly learning was a very animated personality even when he wasn't telling a story, beamed at Amelia's answer. "I'm on the Council of Elders now, though since I've also been made 'Parliamentary Representative' we've had to create a new paint rule. Silver caps for those who work away from Capra."

Doppler looked around the room at the other members of Parliament. "I wasn't aware that Capra was given a seat."

"Alas! Since Capra is still considered a colony it is not an official seat. I have no influence over votes or decisions, but I can at least let Capra's voice be heard." With the man's loud voice and unquestionably lively spirit, Delbert was sure of at least that much. They won't be forgetting Capra any time soon. 

"How have you been adjusting? I don't know you to be the type to have much patience for Parliament's slow pace," Amelia inquired.

"It is dreadful!" Chaupi lamented. "While some here are honest and wish to work for the people, many do little else but snow talk."

"Snow talk?" Delbert looked between them in confusion once again.

"To properly explain would take at least five folk tales and a song," Amelia answered before her friend could do just that. "However, to more briefly explain, unlike the Empire, which associates good with light and bad with the dark, Capram have the opposite associations. Black is reminiscent of fertile ground while white is likened to the snow that kills. Snow also hides and obscures the ground. When stepping on snow, it is impossible to tell if there's good soil centimeters below, barren rock a meter below, or an empty chasm. Snow talk is then the overly reassuring speech someone makes that hides their true intentions, so named because of the white of the teeth constantly smiling."

"Ah," Doppler nodded in understanding. "I can see how that's a useful term in politics."

"Agreed," a new voice chimed in. The Macropodian had finished his conversation with the last of the stragglers and joined Chaupi. "Lord William Bonner. Am I to understand that you are responsible for saving our hides?" He extended a hand to Amelia who readily took it.

"I was the fleet commander, if that's what you mean. I would hardly make any claims that my actions were any more heroic than those of any of the other spacers present." Bonner shook hands with Doppler as Amelia continued. "You had some fun of your own it seems."

Bonner laughed. "If you could call it that, yes. I think Chaupi would agree with me here, but we're both restless souls. Staying cooped up waiting to be rescued was not quite to our tastes."

"Though," Chaupi interjected, "hearing from the rest of Parliament, you'd think there was a whole army of us driving away the Procyons."

"And that every one of them was personally by our side." The Macropodian gave a wry smile. "There are times I miss my old fighting days. There was certainly no snow talk then."

"Ah yes," Amelia mused. "Billy the Boomer was your nickname."

Doppler chimed in, "And a six-time heavyweight boxing champion. Or was it seven?" 

"You're too kind! It was six. I'm surprised that you know of that. Macropodian boxing isn't incredibly popular off world."

"We may never have been introduced to it were it not for Dr Gray,” said Amelia. “Or Captain Gray, as I suppose I should say now. An old friend of mine in the Navy.”

The name caught Bonner by surprise. "Gray? As in Lord Nathaniel Gray?"

"His daughter, though she would hate to be reduced to that association," Amelia replied. "She's one of the most decorated medical officers working in the fleet right now. You might have actually met her in fact since she set up the medical outpost at Parliament in the battle's aftermath."

"I never had the pleasure, though that would be understandable. After all, there were many more patients needing more attention than I did. I can only hope there was no bad blood seeing as how I took her father's seat."

Doppler smiled. "On the contrary. In fact, I don't think I've seen her happier. From what I recall, the only time she seemed interested in politics was when there was the possibility that someone would oust her father from power."

Lord Bonner raised a brow. "Is that so? It seems like we might get along then." 

"I would believe so," Amelia said.

"If you don't mind me asking," Lord Bonner said. "You seem well acquainted with Chaupi. How do you know each other?"

Chaupi beamed and slapped him on the back. "From my brief time in the Navy, my friend. She's the one I told you about who helped me liberate Capra! For this she was welcomed to the Orea clan." 

"Liberate?" Doppler looked at Amelia curiously. “Did you save a planet and not tell me, dear?”  
Amelia laughed. “It was a long time ago, Delbert. Long before I met you. And I can hardly claim much of the credit, in any case.”  
“You should still tell him, though,” said Chaupi. “It is quite the story, doctor! Or perhaps you'd prefer me to tell it?”  
Amelia grinned and shook her head. “Something tells me that there won't be enough time, Chaupi. But I promise to tell him when we're home tonight.”  
“And so you should! Stories are for telling, after all!” Chaupi beamed. “You married a remarkable woman, doctor.”  
Doppler smiled. “You don't need to tell me twice.”

\----------------------------

It was late when Doppler and Amelia got home. The children were already put to bed by the nanny, Mrs. Dunwoody. They quietly made their way through the house to keep from disturbing the unusual silence. They were able to breathe once they made it to their bedroom and shut the door. Amelia went to the closet and after some digging through the hanging clothes, she pulled out a small box and brought it to the bed. Curious, Doppler approached as she opened the box. Within it was a faded piece of folded cloth decorated with colorful stripes that reminded him of Chaupi's horns even though the actual design was quite different. 

"Capram women don't have horns so they wore headscarves instead," Amelia said as she carefully unfolded the cloth. "It carried the information of her entire family, so they traced a lot of history."

"Is that one yours, then? If you're a member of the clan, you'd have one."

"Yes and no. I keep my official headscarf in my office. This one has a different history behind it."

“Ah,” Doppler sat on the edge of the bed. “I suppose this is where that story you promised me begins?”

Amelia smiled as she sat next to him. “Very perceptive of you, doctor. Yes, indeed. It was about seventeen years ago, just after the Nebula War...”

\----------------------------

The naval base of Fort Culverin had been built on the foundation of a small moonlet tidally locked into a polar orbit around Torsten's Planet. As naval bases tended to be, it was spartan and functional, with a halo of piers pointing out into space from its equator. Most of them were occupied by vessels of various sizes, though none were quite as large as the ship occupying the western berth. Her Imperial Majesty's Royal Light Ship _Resolute_ was a fine sight,180 feet from bluff bow to gilded stern of heavy, ivory-painted timbers trimmed with blue and gold, and well over 200 feet from her copper-shod keel to the top of the mainmast where a Royal Navy ensign fluttered in the breeze. Most of her gunports were closed, but the two rows of square hatches that lined her flanks hinted at something of her firepower. Some observers might have been inclined to stop and admire her, but, to Lieutenant Amelia, she was an entirely familiar sight and she paid the ship-of-the-line no heed as she walked along the pier towards her. She swung her bag off her shoulder and handed it to one of a group of spacers working near a wooden pallet that was already loaded with luggage waiting to be hoisted aboard the ship. It was no small job to embark the baggage of the hundreds of spacers, soldiers and officers who called the _Resolute_ home, especially after it had been swelled somewhat by souvenirs acquired during the two weeks of shore leave the crew had just completed.

“Anything fragile in there, ma'am?” the spacer hefted her bag for weight.

Amelia shook her head. “No. And I've nothing to declare, either,” she added, seeing the approach of one of the local customs officials who were poking around the pallet looking for contraband. The man nodded his thanks and withdrew, making a mark on his clipboard. Amelia turned to the ship's gangway, up which a steady stream of crew members were passing under the watchful eye of a pair of Royal Marine sentries. Amelia traded salutes with them and stepped onto the sloping timbers to make her way up to the deck of the great ship. Spacer (First Class) Chaupi was leading the gangway watch stationed at the top and he drew himself up to his considerable height to salute as he saw Amelia approaching.

“Welcome back, ma'am. I trust your leave went well?”

“Well enough, Mr Chaupi, thank you.” Amelia nodded to him. “And yours as well?”

“This planet was a little flat for me. But it was still a nice change to feel real rock and earth under my hooves again!” Chaupi laughed. He was a male Capram, a rare species in the Navy, slightly older than Amelia but more than a full head taller even without the curling horns that emerged from the sides of his head. His grey fur was wiry and thick despite its shortness, though a fringe of curly black sprouted around his jawline in what on a human would be called a beard. Despite the bony thinness of his face, his blue eyes were quick and warm and the smile he gave Amelia along with his salute was more than the mere respect due from a spacer to an officer.

“I trust you haven't entirely forgotten your space legs, though,” said Amelia. “We'll be needing your topmen shortly, I expect.”

“Aye, ma'am. Not to fear. It'll take more than a fortnight planetside to take my head for heights!” Chaupi grinned. “Besides, the Captain would have Midshipman Dunn's hide if we weren't in order. And she'd have mine.”

“I have no doubt,” Amelia smiled. “Carry on, Mr Chaupi.”

“Right, ma'am.”

Amelia surveyed the battleship's familiar decks for a moment before she made her way below decks and aft to the _Resolute_ 's wardroom, the private sanctum of the ship's officers. It was a cosy, wood-panelled room with comfortable bench seats drawn up to the two tables which occupied much of the available floorspace. As she had expected, there were a few people in there already.

“Good morning, Mr Whiting. Midshipman Dunn. Glad to see you.”

Whiting, a young golden-furred, one-eared canid, looked up from where he had been doing a crossword in a newspaper, which he put aside as he stood to greet her. Dunn, an orange and black-striped felinid, moved aside to make space for her on the bench.

“Amelia! Welcome back.”

She shook their hands and then glanced down at Whiting's newspaper. It bore the large-print headline NEBULA WAR DECLARED OVER.

“Looks like they finished the war without us,” remarked Amelia.

“I call it rude,” said Dunn.

“I don't know,” Whiting said. “I think we saw more than enough of it to get the general impression.”

“Of course. Sorry.” Dunn smiled sheepishly.

“Though speaking of it,” said Amelia, “How's the new arm going, Mr Whiting?”

Whiting pulled back the sleeve of his uniform coat and took off a long leather glove to show off the new cybernetic that had replaced his hand and most of his forearm. “It's settling in. Still couldn't play the piano, though. I suppose I can't complain. There's less nerve pain than I was expecting and I was lucky that they let me keep my original elbow. Still, can't say I'm totally happy about having to spend all two weeks of my shore leave in hospital...”

“It'll be worth it,” said Dunn. “Besides, you didn't really miss much. Pretty, but boring. That's pretty much the planet in a nutshell.”

“I could do with some boring, after a war,” said Amelia. “Though I do wonder what we'll do now. Back to the inner sphere, no doubt. Or stuck prowling the depths for pirates.”

“Haven't you heard?” Whiting grinned. “We're taking on a VIP. Some civilian bigwig, I think. A diplomat or something. We'll probably be showing the flag, as they say. Trying to impress someone.”

Dunn rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Still, you're meant to get a good bit of leave on those diplomatic voyages. Maybe you won't miss out next time, Whiting!”

Amelia looked around as the wardroom door opened and heavy footsteps came through it. An enormous figure stooped under the entrance, a black hat held in a massive grey hand.

“Mr Arrow! Welcome aboard.”

Arrow smiled and nodded to her. “Thank you, ma'am. In fact I've been aboard some time. I've been assisting Commander Chad in making ready to receive our guest.'

“Ah, so does that mean you know who it is?” Whiting leaned forward. “We were just talking about them and what it might mean we're about to do.”

“I am not yet at liberty to disclose that,” said Arrow. “And nor do I know our destination. But they have requested that a desk be installed in their cabin, so I doubt that they are along for sightseeing.”

“Sounds like the diplomat theory is gaining ground,” said Dunn. “Well...Mr Harburn told me that we're embarking about a month's worth of supplies, so that probably tells us roughly how far we're going...”

“Not helpfully, though,” said Whiting. “There must be dozens of ports within a month's sailing.”

“But how many are important enough for a VIP visit?” Dunn said. “Hmm...perhaps we should see if we can borrow a chart from Lieutenant Costell...”

“I think the navigator has enough to bother him without us,” said Amelia. “I suppose we junior officers will just have to wait to find out as usual. Oh, present company excepted, Mr Arrow.”

The commander of the _Resolute_ 's Royal Marine company smiled. “Thank you, ma'am.”

“And I should offer my congratulations again on your coronation,” Amelia smiled back. “It rather suits you. And was long overdue, in my view.”

Arrow smiled back and looked at his epaulettes, which now bore the single crown and star insignia of a Lieutenant-Colonel. “Thank you, ma'am. I felt that it wouldn't do to turn them down this time.”

“This time? You mean you've been offered promotion before?” Amelia raised her eyebrows in surprise.

Arrow nodded modestly. “I have, though I've been reluctant to leave my post. Alas, unlike the Navy, senior Royal Marines are likely to find themselves shoreside at a desk rather than in space.”

“Is that so? Just what rank _should_ you be by now, then?”

“One that would most assuredly prevent me from being here, ma'am,” Arrow smiled. “Hence why I have chosen not to hold it.”

“How mysterious,” Amelia grinned. “And yet here you are installing furniture for someone?”

“As the service requires, ma'am,” said Arrow with false humility.

“I can't imagine that getting a desk on board was much fun,” said Whiting. “Where'd you put it?”

“Our guest will be using the captain's day cabin,” said Arrow. “It's still vacant after Archimedes Porter – I mean, our last guest left us.” He glanced quickly at Amelia, knowing that the Porter surname was still a sensitive subject to her.

“Whoever the VIP is, they must be pretty high up to get Captain Forsythe to clear his cabin for them,” said Dunn. “The plot thickens!”

There was a knock on the door and a spacer poked his head around the side. “Begging your pardons for the intrusion, but your dunnage has been lifted aboard and taken to your quarters.”

“Very good. Thank you.” Amelia dismissed him and turned back to her friends. “Well, I suppose we'd all best go and see to that.”

“Too right,” said Dunn, leaving the table. “I picked up a nice piece of pottery and I'll not be happy if some clumsy fool's gone and broken it.”

“Souvenirs,” said Whiting. “That sounds nice.”

“You got yourself a hand, didn't you?” Dunn poked him.

Amelia grinned to herself, shook her head, and headed below.

\----

A lieutenant's cabin was small, only a few paces to a side, so it didn't take long for Amelia to distribute her few possessions around it to her satisfaction before stowing her bag in the locker built under the hanging bed. The utilitarian white walls had been her home for months, but there were memories there which she had to fight back whenever her mind wandered, and the few square metres of floorspace felt emptier than they should have done when she thought of who she had used to share them with...

_Jane..._

It had been weeks since she had been forced to leave her on the docks as the ship sailed for Fort Culverin, not daring to look back as the ship pulled away. She had tortured herself over whether that had been an act of cowardice or professionalism. They had always known their relationship couldn't last – a warship was no place for a civilian – but that hadn't lessened the blow when it came, and it didn't make it easier to deal with the dull pain in her soul, or the sense of loss.

Sighing, she looked out of the window to the docks below. A solar carriage had just pulled up by the gangway. Luggage was being unloaded from it and a figure in civilian attire had stepped out and was making their way up to the ship. This, she guessed, was their VIP. Suppressing her curiosity, she finished unpacking and prepared a fresh uniform for the next day. Her patience was soon rewarded by an announcement over the ship's tannoy.

_“All officers, report to the captain's cabin. Repeat, all officers to the captain's cabin.”_

\---

Being in command of one of the Empire's battleships had its advantages, even on a ship as old as the _Resolute_. The captain's cabin was the largest room on the ship, stretching the full width of the _Resolute_ with a row of windows looking out over the stern. There was a conference table in front of his desk, but he didn't like using it, preferring to keep his officers standing. As she arrived, Amelia saw that today was no exception. She spotted a lanky figure towards the back of the group, wearing a white coat over her blue duty uniform, and quietly stood next to her.

“Dr Gray.”

The mute Macropodian surgeon looked around at her and produced a notebook from her pocket to scribble a quick acknowledgement. MS AMELIA.

“I hear they've put you in charge of sick bay,” Amelia said. “My congratulations.”

Gray nodded.

“And on the promotion as well. It was well-earned.”

Gray nodded again, but there was a flicker of appreciation in her eyes this time. Amelia allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction, but further small talk was rendered unnecessary. The cabin door clicked open and Commander Chad, the tall Benbonian executive officer, raised his voice.

“Officers, attention! Captain present!”

Amelia and the others snapped to attention as two figures entered the room. Captain Sir Edmund Forsythe was an aged human who looked all of his sixty-seven years, with a lined and weatherbeaten face and a snow-white wig of old-fashioned design on his head, though he still moved with confidence and his grey eyes were as icy-sharp as ever. Following him was another human, albeit one several years younger. Amelia scrutinised the VIP for any clues as to his purpose, but his civilian attire – though well-tailored – gave no insights. Behind them, Arrow squeezed himself through the door and closed it behind him. He saw Amelia watching and gave her a respectful nod.

“All officers reporting, sir.” Chad saluted.

Forsythe nodded and waved him down. “As you were, Commander. Let's not waste time, then.”

The officers relaxed their stances as he crossed the room and took up his usual position behind his formidable desk. The civilian stood beside him, regarding the officers with studied friendliness, but also an air of a visitor at a zoo, regarding some fascinating specimens from behind a glass window.

“You all no doubt are aware that we have a guest on board,” said Forsythe. “Allow me to introduce Mr Robert Bellinger of the Colonial Office Inspectorate, along with our next assignment.”

Amelia listened with interest. The Inspectorate was a powerful organ of state, charged with overseeing Imperial affairs on the many dozens of worlds that were in the Empire's jurisdiction but which had not risen to full membership. It was the job of the inspectors to ensure that the Empire's will was being done. Wherever they were going, it was bound to be somewhere interesting.

“We are to sail to Capra,” Forsythe went on. “On a diplomatic mission. Mr Bellinger has been sent from the Colonial Office to ensure that all is in order there. Inspector?”

“Thank you, Captain,” Bellinger's voice was cultivated and impossible to place. “Some of you may be familiar with Capra. It's a primitive world some three weeks from here, beyond the fringe of the Lagoon Nebula. Trade with it is managed by the New Horizons Company, who were granted a royal warrant to develop the world with an eye to, in the fullness of time, admitting it to the Empire on a more formal level. That warrant must be reviewed and renewed periodically. That's what I'm here for. And may I say that I am grateful to you all for this opportunity. A ship such as this, recently distinguished in battle, will be a powerful statement of the Empire's commitment to the economic development of Capra and the New Horizon Company.”

“Do you anticipate any difficulties with that journey, Mr Costell?” Forsythe turned to the ship's navigator, who shook his head.

“No, sir. I'll request the latest forecasts from Port Control before departing, but I believe a direct course should prove no trouble. At cruising speed, I'd estimate a twenty day transit.”

Forsythe nodded. “Very good. Any questions?”

“If I may, sir,” said Amelia. “What are we to do once we arrive?”

“Show the flag, Ms Amelia,” said Forsythe heavily. “The Nebula War is over, ladies and gentlemen. We're back onto a peacetime footing. I would not be anticipating excitement of the sort we've become accustomed to. This will be a formal diplomatic engagement.”

“Understood, sir,” Amelia nodded.

“However,” Forsythe said. “I also have no intention of treating this as some sort of pleasure cruise. We have a newly-repaired ship to put through her paces, and a number of replacement crew who will need to be shaken down. I intend to run a full spectrum of exercises en route, and shore leave on Capra will be granted only under conditions.”

“I shall look forward to observing your ship in action,” said Bellinger smoothly. “As for myself, I have some work to do to prepare for my inspection. The New Horizons Company have provided a great deal of information regarding their business activities on Capra.”

“Just who are the New Horizons Company, sir?” asked Whiting. “I've not heard of them before.”

“Oh, they're a company of merchant venturers,” said Bellinger. “Incorporated on Barthol. They were exploring commercial opportunities out here before the pirate confederacy arose in the Lagoon Nebula. Since then they've confined their operations to Capra. They were granted a monopoly on the Imperial trade with the Capram about twenty years ago, and I understand they're doing remarkably well considering the poor state of the world's development. I'll be interested to see their operation in person.”

“And what happens if their operation isn't up to scratch, sir?”

“Well, in theory I can revoke their royal warrant of trade on the spot!” Bellinger laughed. “Not that anyone has ever had to do that before! No, based on everything I've read so far, this should be something of a formality. But that's not to understate the importance of the visit. As I said before, this ship is a marvellous ambassador for the Empire.”

“So may we hope,” said Forsythe. “If there's nothing further, then, ladies and gentlemen, I expect you to return to your duties. I want the ship ready for departure in four hours. Understood?”

“Aye, sir,” said Chad. “The fresh supplies will have been loaded by then. Mr Costell, is that enough time for your chartwork?”

“More than enough, sir.”

“Mr Pemberton?” Chad looked to the ship's rotund chief engineer, who nodded.

“No problem, sir. All systems standing by.”

“Very good.” Forsythe straightened up. “Four hours. Then we sail. Be ready.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Ship ready for departure, Captain,” said Chad. “Port Control sends the Superintendent’s compliments and has cleared us on a free trajectory.”

“Very good, Commander,” Forsythe folded his hands behind his back. “Take us out.”

“Aye, sir.” Chad stepped forward to the bridge rail and raised his voice. “All hands, departure stations! Topmen to your stations! Deck divisions, man the sides!”

Amelia watched as the ship sprang into action. Teams of spacers began heading aloft, swinging skilfully through the rigging. Below on the deck, the rest of the crew mustered along the sides in neat rows to render honours to the dockhands and officers who had assembled to see them off. Shading her eyes, she looked up and saw Chaupi leading his spacers out onto the yards of the mizzenmast. Despite his hooves, the Capram was practically prancing along the yard before reaching his place at the outermost end, where he neatly lowered himself to stand on the flemish horse.

"Loose the headsails!” Chad shouted. “Hands aloft, loose gaskets and unfurl topsails! Let go moorings fore and aft!”

Half-moons of ivory canvas unfolded overhead as the Resolute spread its sails. Their conductive lattices glowed as they caught the solar wind and began channelling energy into the masts and the topmen on the yards began fixing them into position, Chaupi reaching up to seize a dangling clewline to haul it down. The heavy mooring lines tethering the ship to the dock were loosed and drawn in, and Amelia felt the ship suddenly moving buoyantly underfoot, as if eager to return to her element. Across the other side of the bridge, Bellinger was watching proceedings with a detached politeness, as if he had seen it all a hundred times before.

“Heave up on the bracers!” Chad cried. “Brace up!

“Power translation steady, sir,” said Lieutenant Harburn. “Engine room reports ready.”

“Very good, Mr Harburn,” said Chad. “Helm, ventral thrusters. Take us up to two-zero-zero. Main drives, stand by.”

Amelia watched as the ship began lifting clear of the docks, rising vertically away from Fort Culverin until the moonlet slid out of sight below them. Chad nodded with satisfaction.

“Clear of the docks. Engage artificial gravity. Mr Costell? The ship's yours.”

“Aye, sir.” The navigator spread his hands across his console. “Helmsman, make your heading east by north, zero-seven-four mark one zero.”

“East by north zero-seven-four mark one zero, aye, sir!” The Petty Officer at the helm turned the wheel. Slowly, ponderously at the first, the battleship's bow began swinging left and up, pointing out into the etherium. Amelia saw the numbers counting round on the compass repeater until they settled on the new heading. 

Costell nodded. “Level azimuths. Engines all ahead one-third.”

“Ahead one-third, aye!”

Below her feet, Amelia could feel the ship's main drives engage, the deep rumble being transmitted through the timbers as a distant vibration. She felt a slight lurch as the vessel began moving forward, masts creaking slightly as they took the strain.

“Maintain course and accelerate to cruising speed,” said Costell. He turned to Forsythe and saluted. “Ship underway, Captain.”

“Very good, navigator,” Forsythe nodded. “Call hands down from aloft and commence the watch cycle.”

“Aye, sir.” Chad nodded. “Mr Costell, the watch is yours.”

“Aye, Commander!”

“And we’ll hold service at 0730 tomorrow.” Forsythe straightened his coat. “Good evening to you.”

“Good evening, sir.” Amelia touched her hat and waited until he had left the bridge before she too headed below. 

\----------------------------

The crew assembled at dawn the following day. Daylight was just starting to suffuse the etherium, so the ship’s rails were lined with lanterns that cast a warming, golden glow across the deck. Spacers and marines stood in neat columns behind their divisional officers, all facing the bridge where Forsythe, Chad and Arrow stood, the captain at a lectern on which was set a large red leather-bound book. Bellinger, Amelia noticed, was absent. 

“The Nebula War is over,” Forsythe declared. “And now our true task lies before us. To keep the hard-won peace. To make the skies safe for our brothers and sisters. The Navy’s duty does not end with the ceasing of hostilities. Our vigilance must continue, and our readiness be unimpaired. “And yet, for now, we may take a moment to reflect. Reflect on what we have accomplished, and on the price that has been paid for it. Every man and woman on this ship knows that price. All have given it, and some have given it to the last full measure of their devotion. It is to their memories that we must now turn our minds. Let us pause to remember them.”

Silence fell heavily as the assembled officers and crew removed their hats and bowed their heads. Amelia closed her eyes and thought. Faces came and went in her mind. Midshipman Buckley, her friend and second-in-command on the upper gun deck, an inveterate joker whose humour had never failed him. Lieutenant Forrest, bearded and avuncular. Lieutenant Spicer, lost in the first action of the war. Spacers and marines, some of whom she knew and some whom she hadn’t. And then sapphire eyes, brown hair, a dazzling smile... Jane. Not dead, thankfully, but as far-distant now as if she were…

“It now falls to us to build the peace for which they died. To make it a peace of which they would have been proud.” Forsythe’s voice broke the silence. “And to honour the victorious dead. Lest we forget.”

There was a murmur as the crew repeated the last three words. 

“Ship’s company!” Chad stepped forward. “Attention! Royal Marines, present arms!”

Arrow raised his voice. “Guard of honour, make ready! Fire!”

Amelia looked on as the red-coated soldiers by the railing raised their rifles, pointing outboard. The sharp crackle of laslock fire sounded out as they fired the _feu de joie_ to mark the end of the Nebula War and as a final salute to the fallen. 

Forsythe nodded with satisfaction. "The Admiralty has also asked me to convey their Lordships’ particular appreciation for the role that this vessel played in the victory. By special order of the First Star Lord, we shall splice the mainbrace!”

There were cheers from the crew at the instruction, a time-honoured euphemism meaning that there would be a special alcohol ration dispensed with dinner. Only the Queen and the Admiralty could give the order, and they never did so without reason. Even Forsythe half-smiled at the news before he raised his voice above the cheering.

“Officers, dismiss your divisions. All hands, fall out!”

Amelia turned on her heel and nodded to Petty Officer Bryce. “Division, dismissed!”

The assembly broke up as spacers went back about their duties, or turned in below to snatch a little more sleep before the day began properly. For her part, Amelia moved to mount the stairs to the bridge to take over the forenoon watch, though she was delayed by a group of marines as they filed past towards the companionway. She traded nods with the grey felinid NCO ushering them along.

“Good morning, Sergeant,” she said.

Sergeant Ko touched her hat respectfully. “Morning, ma’am. Sorry, I’ll have this lot out of your way in a moment. Move yourselves, boys and girls! Make way for the officer!”

Amelia grinned and waved a hand. “It’s quite alright, Sergeant. The clock’s not against me.”

“Glad to hear it, ma’am.” Ko watched hawkishly as the last of the marines disappeared down the companionway. “It was a good service this morning.”

Amelia nodded. “That it was. It’s hard to believe the war’s over.”

Ko shrugged pragmatically. “There’ll be another one soon enough, ma’am.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t do to get bored,” Amelia grinned.

“Something like that,” Ko agreed. “But if you’ll excuse me, ma’am, I’ve got to report to Dr Gray.”

“Is that so?” Amelia raised an eyebrow. The nature of the relationship between the surgeon and the sergeant was unclear to her, but she was harbouring some intuitive suspicions. She added a further one to the list when the long scar disfiguring half of Ko’s face twitched slightly and she hesitated in her reply.

“I-just checking in after shore leave, ma’am. Don’t want to have picked anything up.”

Amelia nodded. It was a perfectly reasonable excuse - after two weeks on a new planet, the ship’s medical staff would have the entire crew under a microscope to see if any had contracted something and brought it aboard. A ship in space was a closed ecosystem, which meant that new pathogens tended to travel like wildfire through the crew. “A sensible precaution,” she said. “Though I’m certain she’ll give you the all-clear. I understand you spent a good deal of your leave in her vicinity, and I think she would have noticed had you fallen ill.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ko touched her hat quickly. 

Amelia tried not to grin too much and stood aside to let the other felinid pass before she carried on to the bridge, touching her own hat in salute to Commander Chad. “Forenoon watch officer reporting, sir.”

Chad returned the salute. “Very good, lieutenant. Ship’s heading steady on zero-seven-four at cruising speed. All system functions are in the green and no other vessels have been sighted.”

“Thank you, sir. I relieve you.”

“I stand relieved at 0800.” Chad nodded. “And just in time, too. I hear the breakfast in the wardroom was particularly good this morning.”

“The stewards are making use of the fresh produce while it lasts, sir,” Amelia confirmed. 

“Splendid.” Chad smiled a farewell and left the bridge. Amelia moved over to take his place behind the main console, nodding to Bryce as he joined her. She performed the silent ritual of the incoming watch officer, checking the compasses and speed gauges, the rudder indicator, the barometer and the master systems display. All seemed to be in order, and she settled down for what she expected to be an uneventful four hours. After a time, she saw Bellinger emerge from below decks and join her on the bridge. The civilian looked well-rested and he took her gaze as a greeting.

“Good morning, lieutenant! All shipshape, I trust?”

“Yes, sir,” said Amelia. “And good morning to you, as I didn’t see you at service.”

“Ah, yes. No, you didn’t. I didn’t think it appropriate, given that I wasn’t involved and am but a guest on this ship,” said Bellinger. “I hope my absence did not offend you?”

“No, sir.” Amelia turned back to the console. “We all have our place.”

“Quite so, quite so.” Bellinger kept looking at her. “Forgive me, but while I recognise you from the Captain’s meeting, I don’t believe I ever learned your name?”

“Amelia, sir. Lieutenant Amelia.” Amelia placed a subtle stress on her rank, not wanting to be too familiar with a guest - aside from feeling slighted at Bellinger’s absence from the memorial service, it was too easy to recall what had happened the last time she had allowed herself to open up to a civilian. “I trust everything is to your satisfaction on this voyage so far?”

“Very much so. I am well accustomed to such quarters, and to worse! The Colonial Service has sent me from one end of the Empire to the other – I've probably spent more time in space than you!”

Amelia forced a polite smile. “Glad to hear it, sir.”

“Though of course, to have passage on such a distinguished ship as this – my goodness, is that a Capram?”

Amelia turned her head to look where Bellinger was staring. Chaupi had arrived on the bridge and was preparing to refresh the white paint on the railings. She nodded as he spread out a dropcloth and began levering the lid off a tin.

“Yes, sir. That's Mr Chaupi. He leads one of the rigger teams so he's normally aloft, but since the sails are set and no hands are needed up there...”

“Remarkable. I've never even heard of one anywhere aside from Capra. They seldom travel.” Bellinger shook his head. “May I speak with him?”

“If you wish, sir.” Amelia raised her voice. “Mr Chaupi? Attend us, if you please.”

Chaupi looked around in surprise and stood hastily, brushing down the apron he was wearing before he stood to attention in front of Amelia.

“Yes, ma'am?”

Amelia gestured to Bellinger. “This is Inspector Bellinger of the Colonial Office, Mr Chaupi. Our guest of honour. Not to mention the reason for our voyage.”

“And indubitably pleased to meet you, my good chap,” Bellinger reached out to shake a bemused Chaupi's hand. “You are truly a trailblazer for your kind. May you be the first of many.”

“Er...thank you, sir?” Chaupi looked at Amelia for guidance, unsure as to what prompted the comment.

“I see you're not painted?” Bellinger waved at Chaupi's horns. “Did you leave Capra before you came of age? I'd ask you what clan you're from, but I suppose it doesn't matter now, eh?”

“Er, no, sir.” Chaupi looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable. Amelia took pity on him and stepped forward.

“Apologies for the interruption, sir, but I'm afraid Mr Chaupi needs to return to his duties. I imagine it would not stand in his favour if these rails weren't done by the end of the watch. Isn't that right, spacer?”

“Quite right, ma'am. Thank you.” Chaupi touched his forelock to her, and repeated the gesture to Bellinger before returning to his work. Bellinger shook his head.

“Well, well. What a fortunate coincidence to have him on board. I hope he's happy to be returning home.”

“I'm sure he is, sir,” said Amelia carefully. 

“Captain on the bridge!”

Amelia looked around at the shout and saw Forsythe stumping his way towards them, his large hat firmly wedged onto his head. She stood to attention and saluted.

“Good morning, Captain.”

“Lieutenant.” Forsythe returned the salute. “Status report?”

“Steady on course, maintaining speed, no contacts in sight and all systems in the green, sir,” said Amelia promptly.

“Very good.” Forsythe nodded. “Now, Mr Bellinger, a word.”

“Of course, Captain,” Bellinger said. “I was just remarking to the Lieutenant about the remarkable coincidence of your spacer there being on board.”

Forsythe glanced over to where Chaupi was painting the railing with the studied concentration of someone who is perfectly aware of being talked about. 

“Ah. Yes. In fact, that's the subject of my interest. I would be obliged if you could put together a briefing on the Capram for my officers and myself prior to our arrival,” Forsythe said. “Knowing about the mission is one thing, but I find it helps to know something of who I'll be dealing with.”

“Oh, there's not really much to know, Captain,” said Bellinger airily. “The Capram are a primitive, simple people. They hadn't even developed space flight at the time of their discovery. That's why Capra was brought into the Empire as a colony rather than as a substantive member. And you won't really be dealing with them, either. The New Horizons Company is the intermediary between the Capram and the Empire so we'll mostly be speaking with their officials.”

“Even so, sir,” said Amelia, “It may be useful for us to benefit from your knowledge of their culture.”

“Culture? Oh, no. I'm an administrator, not an anthropologist,” Bellinger smiled. “But their society is simple enough. There are four great clans – the Hirca, the Wilia, the Sabira and the Orea. They each specialise in a certain field, depending very much on where they're from. The Hirca occupy most of Capra's arable land, and so they're naturally the most advanced and sophisticated of the clans. They're the ruling caste, if you will.”

Out of the corner of her eyes, Amelia saw Chaupi tense, pausing in his work for a moment as if considering interjecting. But he said nothing, and Bellinger continued unawares. 

“The Wilia live in the forests and so are expert woodworkers and carpenters. The Sabira live on the mountainsides and so excel at mining and masonry. And the Orea are weavers and embroiderers. Quite remarkable ones, too. Their handiwork accounts for over twenty percent of Capra's exports. Most of the rest are minerals and ores from the Sabiras' mines and timber from Wilia’s forests. There's no industry there of note.”

“So we'll just be flying the flag there, sir?”

Bellinger nodded. “Essentially. I'll have to meet with the New Horizons management, do some paperwork and so on. But Capra's real promise is in the future. The planet has the potential to be extremely wealthy if it's properly developed. The Capra are a hard-working people. With the right leadership, they'll become valuable contributors to the Empire.”

Amelia glanced over her shoulder at Chaupi. “Yes, sir. I'm sure they will.”

\----------------------------

Amelia stooped under a low deckhead beam to enter the upper gun deck, focusing her mind on the task ahead. The last rounds was an official but low-key inspection to ensure that the good order of the ship was being maintained. Ordinarily it was a task managed by the officer of the watch, but Amelia had found herself volunteering for the duty more and more these days.

_It beats being all alone in that cabin at night..._

The gun decks were her action station and so she knew every inch of them like the back of her hand. As she stepped onto the familiar timbers, mentally compiling the checklist of things she had to account for, she raised her head and took in the scene. The space was busy, with the twin rows of heavy cannon on each side of a central catwalk and most of the space in between them filled with the mess tables or hanging hammocks of the spacers who lived, ate and slept there. There was a hum of conversation, broken by the occasional loud voice or the sound of a violin being played somewhere behind her. Further down the deck, however, there was a pool of lamplight and a knot of spacers all crowded around. Laughter and cheers periodically rippled from it, apparently in response to a familiar voice. Amelia approached the group, acknowledging the respectful nods and salutes from the spacers she passed, and saw what she expected – Chaupi was standing on a mess table, bent almost double to avoid the deckhead, telling a story that, accompanied by his expressive hand gestures and body language, was so successfully commanding the crowd's attention that it took some time for one of the spacers to realise that she was standing beside him.

“Ma'am! Begging your pardon!”

“As you were, spacer,” Amelia reassured him. 

“Ma'am?” Chaupi had paused mid-sentence as he noticed her. 

“The same to you, Mr Chaupi,” said Amelia. “Though I take it this tale will be finished by middle watch?”

“Yes, ma'am! I'm into the third act already.”

“Very good. You know how Lieutenant Harburn is about noise.” Amelia nodded. “Carry on.”

“Actually, ma'am,” Chaupi climbed off the table, “I'd appreciate a word, if I may.”

Amelia shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“About what Mr Bellinger was saying on the bridge this morning-”

“Ah. Yes, I thought so. Walk with me, Mr Chaupi.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” Chaupi waved to the other spacers. “I'll be back to finish the story in a moment, friends, fear not.”

“I saw your reaction to what Bellinger was saying,” Amelia said as they continued down the catwalk towards the bows. “I suppose I should commend you on your restraint, under the circumstances.”

Chaupi grinned. “It's not the first time I've heard an outsider misrepresent my people. But I feel it necessary to correct the record. Especially if we really are going to Capra.”

“We are, so go on. What did he get wrong?”

“It might be quicker to say what he _didn't_ ,” said Chaupi. “Especially if the Captain wants a better understanding of the situation on Capra. I do not believe he will get it from Mr Bellinger.”

“I see.” Amelia glanced around as they left the gundeck and entered the lee of the forward arms locker, where they had a degree of privacy in which they could speak. “I suppose you'd better fill me in.”

“Well, he was right about there being four clans...” said Chaupi.

“Ah, yes. Which are you?”

“I am Orea.”

Amelia frowned as she tried to remember. “The weavers, wasn't it?”

“Yes. Though I was never one myself. In truth, the clans are more complex than Mr Bellinger suggested. Every one is a functional society of its own, though they do all have their particular specialties. But not every Hirca is a farmer, not every Sabira is a miner or a smith, not every Wilia is a carpenter and not every Orea is a weaver.”

“Of course. So what did you do?”

“I am...” Chaupi paused to think. “Sorry, ma'am, the word doesn't translate into your language very well. You could call me a 'story keeper.' There is more to it than that, but that's a pretty good literal definition.”

“So...like an author? Or a librarian?” Amelia tried to think of what the term could mean.

“Both and neither. It's complicated.” 

“Is there anything about Capra that's not?” Amelia looked wry. “Well, let's stick with the politics for now.”

Chaupi nodded. “Mr Bellinger said that the Hirca are the rulers. That is...not strictly true. They are merely in charge for now. When the Empire first came to Capra, the Hirca were the first clan they contacted. And they naturally assumed that the Hirca were the most powerful because of their farms and the food they traded with the other clans like mine. But the clans were really all equals, ma'am. Each depended on the specialities of the others. Until the New Horizons Company arrived.”

“And upset the balance?”

Chaupi nodded again. “They dealt with the Hirca, thinking that they were in charge. The Hirca played along to become more powerful. They agreed to trade with the Company; more than they could provide. They promised them Orean textiles, Sabiran metals, Wilian wood – lots of it. And when the other clans refused to give them what they had promised, the Hirca elders told the Company that they were in rebellion. So the Company gave them arms, and brought its own soldiers, to bring the other clans to heel.”

“I can't imagine that they accepted that,”

“We did not.” Chaupi sighed. “But the Company's weapons were too strong. Those who fought were destroyed. The resistance was driven underground.”

Amelia noted the use of the word 'resistance.' “And...you were part of it?”

“Yes, ma'am. Myself and my...a Sabiran friend. We were part of a group. One of several. The Hirca and the Company have made many enemies.”

“I'd be amazed if they hadn't, if this is the truth,” said Amelia. 

“But getting the groups to act together has been difficult,” said Chaupi. “Not all of them get along. And now there are soldiers in every village, on every road...”

“It sounds more like a military occupation than a commercial operation,” Amelia said. “What kind of 'resistance' is this?”

“Each group does what it can. They have different resources, different skills available, different tactics...”

“Violence?” Amelia said pointedly.

Chaupi hesitated, but nodded. “Y...yes, ma'am. Some of them. Sometimes. If they can capture weapons from the Company. But they are not all like that.”

“Such as yours?”

“You could say so, ma'am,” agreed Chaupi. “I was working for my group when the Hirca caught me in Port Machonochie, trying to speak to a contact of mine there. They could have tried me, but that would have meant admitting to the Company that I'd got into their capital, that they didn't have control. So they stripped my paints and packed me into the hold of the next ship to leave Capra.”

“Your paints?” Amelia looked quizzical. “Bellinger said you must have left before you got them.”

“Another point on which he was not entirely accurate,” Chaupi smiled. “I came of age years before I was exiled. But by stripping my paints, the Hirca made it so that I could not return.”

“Couldn't you have just repainted yourself?”

“They were...somewhat forceful in applying the acid to remove them,” Chaupi's smile was brittle for a moment. Amelia glanced up at his horns and flinched as she suddenly understood the pitting and scars they bore.

“Ah. Never mind, then.” 

“And besides, it would have been improper to do them myself,” Chaupi shrugged. “But my horns are not important. If we are sailing for Capra-”

“Yes, quite.” Amelia frowned thoughtfully as she pondered what he had told her. “Have you told Captain Forsythe any of this?”

“No, ma'am. I thought I should tell you first. The Captain trusts you. He may not trust me.” Chaupi shook his head. “After all, I am a Capram who cannot go home. Of course I would complain about it. He could doubt my _ina_.”

“And I expect there's a complicated explanation of what that means,” said Amelia. 

“As a matter of fact-” 

Amelia cut him off with a raised hand. “I don't need to hear it now, Mr Chaupi. But I think we should both take this to the Captain. If what you're saying is true, we're flying into a tinderbox that could ignite at a single spark. This trip may be more dangerous than he thinks...”

\----------------------------

Forsythe had listened in silence as Chaupi had repeated his story. The old captain had begun seated at his desk, but as more details emerged, he stood up and began pacing the room. By the time Chaupi finished, he was standing at the stern gallery windows, looking out over the glow of the ship's wake. 

“Is there anything further, Mr Chaupi?” he said heavily.

Chaupi shook his head. “No, sir.”

“And this accords with what you told Ms Amelia?”

“It does, sir,” Amelia affirmed.

“Then you may go, Mr Chaupi.” Forsythe gestured to the door. His lined face was impassive and gave no indication of his thoughts.

Chaupi gave Amelia a nod of thanks and silently withdrew. Amelia stayed behind, waiting obediently in silence until the click of the cabin door closing behind the Capram seemed to prompt Forsythe into speaking again.

“This is troubling,” he said. “And curiously absent from the brief that Mr Bellinger provided me with.”

“Perhaps the Colonial Office doesn't know, sir,” said Amelia. “Or doesn't _want_ to know. They'd be reliant on the New Horizons Company to tell them what's going on, and the Company is hardly likely to advertise this situation, if it's true."

"Quite so.” Forsythe looked calculatingly at her. “And do you think it's true?” 

Amelia paused to consider her response. “Mr Chaupi's record is unblemished, sir. But there's no denying that his testimony may be regarded as...coloured by his background.” 

“And yet I assume that you believe there may be at least a kernel of truth to it,” said Forsythe. “Otherwise you wouldn't have brought it to me.” 

Amelia nodded. “Yes, sir. At the very least, it suggests that there's an undercurrent there which the Colonial Office doesn't understand. Even if that's not a problem now, it could be later. We need to make sure we know what's going on. Maybe there's nothing...but maybe there's more to it. And if there is, that could pose a threat to the ship, not to mention the long-term implications if there's a full-scale revolt.” 

“So what do you suggest we do?” 

“Investigate, sir. That's the purpose of Mr Bellinger's visit to Capra, after all. Mr Chaupi could reach out to his contacts there to get more information.” 

“Taking sides in a local matter, lieutenant?” Forsythe narrowed his eyes. “That's dangerous ground to traverse. The Navy is forbidden from involvement in politics for a good reason. If captains played kingmakers, there'd be chaos. Civil war, even.” 

“I know, sir. But we've done it.” said Amelia doggedly. “Remember New Genswick? We found out that the governor there was selling his people to the pirates, and deposed him.” 

“Strictly speaking,” said Forsythe, “We did not depose him. We merely confronted him with the fact that we knew what he'd done and were prepared to report it. He then resigned before his royal warrant could be revoked. I know that may sound like hair-splitting, but it's the difference between operating within the law and turning vigilante.” 

“Yes, sir. But the NHC has a royal warrant as well. And like a governor's, it requires them to conduct their affairs in the Empire's interests and to the good order of its subjects. That's what Bellinger's going there to verify. It may be a formality for him, sir, but he still has the power to revoke it if he's convinced of the need. If there is even only a little truth to what Mr Chaupi is saying, then there is a massive rights violation occurring unchecked.” 

Forsythe shook his head. “You're forgetting another thing we had on New Genswick. Evidence, lieutenant! But right now, what do we have? The say-so of a colonial subject, who left there years ago and who freely admits to membership of a rebel organisation. That's nothing close to enough. We'd need more – much more – to justify the kind of action you mean. And that’s Mr Bellinger’s job, not yours.” 

“I know, sir, but Bellinger…” Amelia took a deep breath, trying to find suitably respectful words. “I get the feeling that he just accepts whatever he reads as the truth. I don’t think he’s the kind of person who’d go out into the field to gather information for himself.” 

“I believe we have the same opinion of him,” muttered Forsythe. 

“Then couldn't we conduct an investigation, sir? If we find anything, we can present it to Bellinger. After all, is it not better to conduct an investigation when there is nothing to be found than it is to not conduct one when it is necessary?” 

“Under what authority? The Colonial Office is responsible for the administration of the Empire's colonies, not the Navy.” 

Amelia looked down. “So there's nothing we can do, sir? You're saying we can't even investigate?” 

Forsythe sat heavily at his desk and appeared lost in thought for a long moment. “I'm saying,” he said quietly, “that when we arrive at Capra, the crew will be granted shore leave. I trust that you and Mr Chaupi will use yours...productively.” 

Amelia caught the meaningful glint in the old man's eyes. She nodded. “Yes, sir. I think I understand.”

Forsythe nodded. “This is all highly unorthodox,” he said. “But...you have something of a history of unorthodoxy, Ms Amelia, and it has yet to be proven ill-founded. Though be aware of the need for discretion. We will be subject to planetary colonial law on Capra. Should any officers or crew end up on the wrong side of it, there will be little I can do for them.” 

“Of course, sir.”

“Then I think we understand each other.” Forsythe stood up. “Is there anything further?”

“No, sir.” Amelia saluted formally. “Thank you.”

Forsythe returned the salute and indicated her dismissal. “And lieutenant...I hope you are wrong about this.”

“So do I, sir,” said Amelia. “So do I.”

\----------------------------

Chaupi had been waiting patiently outside the cabin. As she passed him, Amelia gave him a short nod and motioned to him to follow her. It wasn't that this mission would be secretive, but it was definitely off the books. It wouldn't be wise to plan out in the open, especially if things went wrong. Plausible deniability and all that. Understanding, the Capram followed in silence until they reached a quiet part of the ship. 

Amelia finally addressed Chaupi. "Before we begin, Mr. Chaupi, I must warn you. While your testimony raised enough questions to warrant an investigation, I will be forming my own conclusions. They may or may not be ones you want to hear, but I will act accordingly. Am I clear?"

The Capram nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now, as you are more familiar with the area than I or anyone else on the ship, I will have to defer to you in regards to our movements planetside. Where do you recommend that we start?”

Chaupi gave it a moment’s thought before coming to a decision. “The only real option is to sneak off of the ship in Port Machonochie, which is where I presume we will be putting in. It’s the only place on Capra where Imperials would be regularly seen so it would be easier for you to move around there than anywhere else. You could even get into restricted areas, at least as long as they think you are a company employee rather than a naval officer. They will be watching the ship as it comes in so they would notice if we leave before the ship docks.”

“Very well. We will need to discuss the port’s layout later when we get closer. Now, since you were exiled, would you be recognized?”

“Nobody has ever returned from exile before to anyone’s knowledge, so they wouldn't necessarily know to look for my face. I would still need a disguise to be safe, and the Company cannot be allowed to know I’m on board, otherwise they will be watching the ship too closely for us to get past their guards. But whatever disguise I try, I need my horns painted. Bare horns at my age would be too noticeable.”

“Yes, even Bellinger noticed. Very well then, what do you need to do in order to make that happen?”

“I would need paints, ma’am. That and I need to make sure it would stick to my horns without causing more damage than there already is.”

Amelia thought for a moment, but was at a loss. “Did you have any ideas?”

“Not exactly,” the Capram admitted. “But Dr. Gray has been helping me make my horns healthy again.”

"Then she would be the best person to ask for suggestions." Amelia nodded. "Come on, Mr Chaupi. I have no doubt she'll be on duty at this hour." 

\----------------------------

It didn’t take long for Amelia and Chaupi to reach the sick bay. Walking through the doorway, they saw two neat rows of low beds. It was mostly empty save for one spacer who seemed to be napping in a bed along the farther wall. An Arcturian orderly was smoothing out the wrinkles of one of the immaculate beds, possibly desperate to have something to do. Hearing footsteps, he turned and stood at attention which Amelia waved off immediately. He only slightly relaxed.

“Can I help you with anything, Lieutenant?”

“No injury or illness to report, Mr. Hadder, thank you. But we do want to consult with Dr. Gray if she is available.”

“Yes, ma’am. Give me one moment.” The orderly approached a door to one of the rooms just off to the opposite end of the medical bay, knocked, then entered. He emerged a few moments later and held the door open. “The CMO will see you now.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hadder. As you were.” With a final nod, Amelia and Chaupi walked past him to enter the small office. 

The Macropodian was sitting at a desk that was covered in piles of paperwork and file folders. Everything seemed neatly organized, but there was quite a lot of it. The felinid suspected that while Dr. Gray didn’t like to be interrupted with something that wasn’t urgent, even she would be welcome to a break from the tedium she was currently buried under. The silent doctor produced one of her many pre-prepared cards as Amelia and Chaupi entered. 

WHAT IS YOUR COMPLAINT?

There were no chairs in the office - Gray did not encourage her rare visitors to linger - so they stood in front of her desk. Chaupi, self-conscious in the presence of two officers, looked to Amelia to speak first.

“I understand you’ve been looking after the health of Mr Chaupi’s horns?” she said.

The Macropodian took out her infamous notebook to write a response. YES, EVER SINCE I CAME ABOARD. She then motioned to the Capram as she stood up and he dutifully lowered his head so she could appraise his horns. She apparently was pleased with what she saw. YOU HAVE BEEN FOLLOWING MY DIRECTIONS? 

“Yes ma’am, every day.” He straightened when he realized that she was done examining him for the moment. “Actually, I wanted to ask if you knew how you could make paint stick to them.” 

This seemed to take Dr. Gray by surprise. She looked to Amelia questioningly, who responded with a simple nod. Apparently that was all the affirmation that she needed. The Macropodian stood there for some time as if she was weighing many different options. At one point, she examined Chaupi’s horns once more, this time more closely. She then began writing in her notebook while Chaupi and Amelia waited patiently. When she was done, she slid the notebook to them and began making a list for herself of what appeared to be ingredients.

NO PAINTS I HAVE AVAILABLE OR COULD MAKE OUT OF AVAILABLE MATERIALS WOULD BE ABLE TO STICK TO THE HORNS IN THEIR CURRENT CONDITION. WHILE THE TREATMENTS HAVE BEEN HEALING THEM, THEY ARE TOO FRAGILE TO TAKE WELL TO PAINT. I WILL HAVE TO APPLY AN EPOXY TO ACT AS A BUFFER TO PROTECT THE HORNS FROM THE PIGMENTS. THE EPOXY ITSELF WILL NEED TO BE DILUTED SO AS TO MAKE IT TEMPORARY. APPLYING A MORE PERMANENT EPOXY MAY BE DIFFICULT TO REMOVE WITHOUT CAUSING FURTHER DAMAGE. AS SUCH, IF THE HORNS GET WET AFTER THE EPOXY IS APPLIED, IT WILL ALL WASH OFF.

“That would work, ma’am,” Chaupi said after he finished reading. “There is a natural resin made from lenga sap on Capra used for damaged horns. If your epoxy is temporary, I could wash it off when I get a hold of the resin and the authentic paints.” 

DO YOU NEED SPECIFIC COLORS FOR THE PAINT?

The Capram reached into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be some type of neckerchief that she had never seen before. It was vaguely shaped like a neckerchief with long and thin legs. It was highly decorated, but not with any symbology that Amelia would have recognized. She didn’t get a close look at it as Chaupi was already pointing out the colors he needed to Dr. Gray. Even still, he seemed reluctant to actually part with it.

I NEED TO KEEP THIS FOR THE TIME BEING SO THAT I CAN APPROPRIATELY MATCH THE PIGMENTS. Sensing another moment of hesitation, she added, IT WILL BE RETURNED TO YOU WHEN I NO LONGER HAVE NEED OF IT. 

Amelia was caught off-guard by the almost uncharacteristic gentleness in the sentiment, but it worked. Chaupi relinquished the fabric without having to be ordered to do so. Dr. Gray folded the curious item respectfully and put it in her desk drawer. She then added some more ingredients to her list and gave the page to the Capram. 

TAKE THIS LIST TO THE DISPENSARY. HAVE THEM DELIVER THE MATERIALS TO ME DIRECTLY. 

With that, he was dismissed, and withdrew respectfully, but Gray motioned for Amelia to stay a moment longer. She waited until Chaupi was safely gone, eyes unwaveringly scrutinising the felinid, before she picked up her pen again. I’M STARTING TO RECOGNIZE WHEN YOU’RE UP TO SOMETHING. SHOULD I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE PLANNING, OR IS IT BEST THAT I DON’T?

“The latter unfortunately.” Amelia couldn’t help but give a wry smile. “I can tell you that I have permission from the Captain.”

THAT WASN’T MY CONCERN. DO I NEED TO MAKE SURE I HAVE BEDS PREPARED FOR CASUALTIES?

“Likely not. It will only be Mr. Chaupi and I, and I doubt we will be in contact with the ship for some time.”

That made Dr. Gray legitimately concerned, putting an end to the light banter. THAT’S RISKY, EVEN FOR YOU.

“Yes. But necessary, I assure you.”

The surgeon paused for a few moments, carefully watching Amelia before writing again, this time on a new page. When she was done, she ripped the page out, folded it, then handed it to Amelia. Whatever it was, Dr. Gray clearly wanted the felinid to read it in private. Amelia was curious and thought about reading it then and there, but by then the Macropodian wrote another note, this one was back to the task at hand. WHEN DO I NEED TO HAVE THE EPOXY AND PAINTS READY?

The lieutenant stuffed the folded note in her pocket for later. “It only needs to be ready before we arrive at Capra. Mr Costell is still estimating a twenty-day passage.”

VERY WELL. I WILL LET YOU AND MR. CHAUPI KNOW WHEN I HAVE THE MATERIALS READY.

The surgeon returned to her paperwork and Amelia, sensing her dismissal, left the sick bay. 

\----------------------------

When Amelia returned to her quarters, she couldn’t resist taking out Gray’s note and unfolding it. The first thing the felinid noticed was that it was addressed to her as a friend. It was strange to think that they were at that point by now. She never would have thought it when they first met on the Hawkesbury and Gray had held a gun on her.

_Amelia,_

_Despite the service this morning, you and I both know that there are more ways to lose someone in war than through their death in battle. Those ways are not easier to handle. In some senses, they are harder, for they make it more difficult to break from the past._

_Grief can cloud the mind and impair sound judgement. I will not tell you not to take chances if what you are seeking to achieve warrants them, but I will ask you not to take unnecessary ones. For your own sake, as well as for the sake of those whom you still have and who would regret your absence._

  
_Good hunting._  
_-Eleanor_

Amelia raised an eyebrow in surprise. She had known the Macropodian’s name, but had never before seen it used in a conversational context. Guessing herself to be privileged to see it, she folded the paper away and looked around the room. Normally she’d feel the vacant space yawning around her, a hollow to match the one in her chest whenever she remembered who she had once shared it with. But now there was something else, something that eased the sense of loss, and it took her a moment to realise what it was: purpose. She realised with a surprise that she was looking forward to Capra and to putting their plan into action. Perhaps it was no more than that it was a distraction - but either way, it had been a while since she had stepped in here with anything positive on her mind. 

She hoped it would last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any of you following the Sector Crescentia blog on Tumblr will recognize cultural elements of Capram society as we continue with this story. There will be no spoilers for the actual plot of the fic there, but the information provided by the World Building June exercise will simply provide a more full context. We might not be able to provide every single one of these details in the story if they don't come up naturally.


	3. Chapter 3

Capra was a world of distinct colours – azure seas separated from mountainous landmasses by only the narrowest bands of green, with swirls of white cloud spread across the planet. It was pretty, but not inviting – the stark grey of the mountains suggested great heights and sheer, rocky sides on which no vegetation could cling, and the shapes of the cloud formations spoke of high winds and powerful storm systems. The _Resolute_ was passing inside the orbit of one of Capra's moons, and the planet itself filled the immediate horizon. Amelia regarded it with interest as she stood on the bridge, like most of the other officers with a telescope to her eye, scanning the vicinity for any sign of the New Horizons Company ships that they expected to see. 

“Reduce speed, Mr Costell,” said Forsythe, who was pacing a few steps up and down like a caged tiger, as was his habit when left waiting on someone else. “All ahead one-third.”

“All ahead one-third, aye,” Costell acknowledged. “Request permission to furl royals and topgallants?”

“Permission granted,” Forsythe nodded. “Mr Bellinger? I don't suppose your New Horizons friends sent you any instructions for our rendezvous?”

Bellinger shook his head. “No, Captain, I'm afraid not. But they maintain a standing orbital patrol, so I'm sure they'll be along soon enough.”

Forsythe grunted. “Ms Dunn? Keep some hands aloft after they finish furling those sails.”

“Aye, sir,” Dunn nodded and left the bridge to give orders to her riggers. But in the event, it was a Zandarian lookout high on the mainmast who first called out some minutes later.

“Sails! Sails off the port bow!”

Dunn, who had returned to the bridge, swung her telescope to follow the lookout's pointing arm and dialed in the focus.

“Contacts ten degrees off the port bow, sir,” she confirmed. “Two vessels on a converging course.”

“Probably guard ships,” said Bellinger. “They'll be here to welcome us on the Company's behalf and take us down to Port Machonochie.”

“They're signalling, sir,” Dunn put her telescope to her eye again. “Signal requests our identification and intentions.”

“Advise them of our identity, Mr Harburn, and that we are carrying the Colonial Inspector,” said Forsythe, adding in a mutter, “I suppose one can't fault their vigilance...”

The flags fluttered up the _Resolute_ 's signal halyards and there was a short pause before the lead Company vessel replied. In the meantime, they had approached close enough for Amelia to see them unaided, but she raised her telescope anyway for a closer view. Both ships were small, clinker-built brigs of a sort used by short-haul, small-time shipping agencies all across the Empire. They flew a distinctive yellow flag with blue and red stripes down the centre and she could see a handful of cannon mounted on their decks, but there was no hiding from a trained eye the fact that they were warships only by default – even a modestly-equipped pirate would have little difficulty either outrunning or outgunning them. They began turning across the _Resolute_ 's path, and Amelia noticed that they both sported retrofitted forecastles with fixtures on the upper deck that puzzled her until she realised that they were mounting plates for mortars – a weapon type next to useless for space combat but extremely useful for bombarding a terrestrial target. She wondered for a moment who the enemy was, and then remembered Chaupi's description of the Capram resistance. 

“They're the _Clarissa Fitzgerald_ and the _Elbrus Jones_ out of Port Machonochie, sir,” said Dunn as the two ships' turn displayed their sterns. “They're signalling welcome on behalf of the New Horizons Company and requesting that we follow them. They'll act as guides until we reach harbour.”

“Very good, Ms Dunn,” Forsythe nodded. “Mr Harburn? Signal our acknowledgement and thanks. Mr Costell? Prepare the ship for atmospheric flight and follow the _Fitzgerald_. Match our speed and maintain current separation.”

“Aye, sir!” 

As the crew prepared the ship for the rigours of atmosphere, Amelia moved to the side of the bridge and leaned over the rail. The three ships were soon descending in line astern, the _Elbrus Jones_ having taken up a position behind _Resolute_ as if shepherding the battleship along. She felt the first gentle buffets as they entered Capra's upper atmosphere and heard the timbers creaking as they adjusted to the greater densities of air they were dropping through. Below them, a vast expanse of snowy white cloud spread out to the horizons. Here and there it was broken by mountaintops, sheer, craggy and snow-capped, like islands emerging from a sea. The brigs were still heading towards it, slowing only marginally.

“We'll lose visibility fast once we reach that cloud layer, sir,” warned Costell. “It's not that I don't trust the Company pilots, but I doubt they've ever guided in a ship-of-the-line.”

“I agree, navigator.” Forsythe nodded. “Ms Amelia? Take your glass and a good pair of eyes and get as far for'ard as you can. Pass word aft if you see anything in our path.”

“Aye, sir.” Amelia touched her hat and hurried from the bridge, tucking her telescope into her belt. As she crossed the main deck, she was looking around for a reliably sharp-eyed and sure-footed spacer to join her when her eyes alighted on Chaupi, who was climbing down from the shrouds, his normally swift movements slowed by the fact he was gazing wide-eyed at the world below. 

“Mr Chaupi!”

He turned quickly and touched his forehead. “Yes, ma'am?”

“Join me on the bowsprit, would you? The Captain wants a couple more pairs of eyes looking ahead.”

“Aye, ma'am.” Chaupi fell in behind her as she hastened towards the forecastle, where she exchanged nods with Whiting.

“Compliments from the bridge, Mr Whiting. Mr Chaupi and I are to take a walk on the bowsprit.”

“Right, ma'am. Coombs! Prideaux! Prepare jacklines!” 

Two spacers sprang into action, handing Amelia and Chaupi a pair of carabiners that clipped onto the backs of their belts and which trailed a line to another carabiner which would fasten onto a narrow rope that ran out the length of the bowsprit as a safety measure. Amelia handed her hat to one of Whiting's spacers and tried not to let her nerves show – it was rare for anyone to be sent out onto the bowsprit without good cause, such were the well-document risks. Chaupi, a topman to his bones, betrayed no hesitation whatsoever as he stepped over the front of the forecastle and set foot on the marine's walk, a narrow, grated walkway that sloped slightly downwards to intersect with the bowsprit just above the _Resolute_ 's figurehead. Amelia nodded her thanks to Whiting and followed him, checking the grip of her shoes as she reached the end of the walk and stepped out onto the rounded bowsprit. She knelt for a moment to attach her trailing carabiner to the jackline and stood up. Chaupi finished clipping himself on as well and turned to her.

“Ready, ma'am.”

“Very good, Mr Chaupi.” Amelia took a deep breath. “Follow me.”

She stepped out. She was familiar enough with the ship's topworks, but she hadn't been out on a bowsprit since the old training sloops they'd practised on at the Academy. It was a strangely alien and nerve-wracking experience. Aloft, the ship spread out below, and though her rational mind told her that the unyielding decks promised nothing more than a quick death if she were to fall, it was similar enough to a terrestrial surface that she could put it out of her mind. Out here, there was nothing but a couple of feet of rounded timber and the bobstays between herself and a twelve-kilometre fall to the unseen surface of Capra. Her objectives were marked by the forestays, the great cables which braced the ship's foremast and held the headsails, which provided handholds though also an obstacle to step around. She reached the first and swung herself gingerly around it. Next, a few metres ahead, was a heavy metal collar around the shaft of the bowsprit, holding the jibboom ahead, a horizontal athwart spar and, below her, the pointed martingale to which the bobstays were attached. She glanced behind her and saw Whiting watching from the forecastle. Chaupi was following her with practised ease, not even bothering to reach out a hand to the first forestay as he stepped around it. 

“In the old days, they used to have a lookout post out here,” said Amelia. “Something like a crow's nest. You can still see it on illustrations of ancient ships.”

“I think I can see why they did away with it!” Chaupi grinned.

Amelia nodded ruefully. “We'll install ourselves at the fore topgallant stays, I think.”

“As you wish, ma'am.” Chaupi followed her. There was another horizontal spar out here, and it provided somewhere to stand. Amelia hooked her left arm around the stay and took the telescope out of her belt. They were just in time – ahead of them, the _Clarissa Fitzgerald_ was just vanishing into the layer of clouds. A large lantern rigged on her taffrail lit up, shining a bright white beam back towards the _Resolute_ , a beacon to follow through the mists.

“Do you know I've never seen Capra from space before?” Chaupi mused, almost in anticipation. “The circumstances of my leaving it did not permit me to enjoy the view.”

“I suppose it wouldn't have.” Amelia put her telescope to her eye, but it was no better at penetrating the clouds and its lens soon fogged up with water droplets. She could feel them slowly penetrating the fabric of her uniform and hoped that it would warm up further down. There were occasional glimpses of mountainside through the mist, but safely away on either side as they followed the brig down.

“I wish I knew where we were,” said Amelia. “I'm not even sure what we're looking for aside from mountains.”

“We are probably flying northeast up the Machonochie Valley,” said Chaupi. “It is the heart of Capram lands, running across the continent and where all four clans have their territories. The New Horizons Company built Port Machonochie at the valley's centre, on the place where the clans used to meet to trade with each other. It's their base now.”

Amelia looked down. They were approaching the bottom of the cloud layer, and details were becoming discernible. Before she could make out anything in particular, they were through, and the valley of the Capram spread itself out before her. The scale of it took her breath away. The higher slopes of the mountains on each side were perilously sheer, but moderated lower down below the snowline, where forests and even green pastures could be seen on the flatter areas. The very bottom of the valley, still miles wide, was a spiderweb of rivers great and small, converging, splitting and pooling into lakes surrounded by verdant, neatly cultivated fields. Occasional roads and railways threaded their way along the valley floor and down from the heights, joining the clustered buildings of settlements and villages. 

“It's beautiful,” Amelia murmured. She could tell from the angle of the light that the cloud bank they had just flown through was, in fact, no more than the morning fog which still shrouded the westerly end of the valley but which the sun had already burned off in the east. Chaupi was silent, his face a mix of conflicting emotions as he looked down on his home. Amelia glanced up and saw him, guessing at the conflict in his heart. 

“Mr Chaupi?”

He blinked as if waking up suddenly. Amelia motioned back towards the forecastle.

“I think we'd better be getting back on board. They don't need us any longer, and you might be a little too obvious out here if anyone on that bridge looks behind them.”

Chaupi nodded. “A...aye, ma'am. As you say.”

He turned and began making his way back down the bowsprit. Amelia lingered a moment, and followed. Gratefully returning to the forecastle and handing back her jackline, she looked up to see that the order had been given to dress the ship ahead of their arrival. Long string of colourful flags were being hauled up all the halyards and spacers were falling into line along the railings in the traditional show of non-hostility for a ship’s arrival into a strange port. Up above, the riggers and topmen were neatening the sails and then taking up positions along the yards.

“I think I had better join them, ma’am,” said Chaupi.

Amelia thought about it, then shook her head. “No...we need to keep you out of sight. Go below. I’ll explain your absence to Midshipman Dunn.”

Chaupi saluted and vanished below. Amelia continued aft to the bridge, where the officers were engaging in their own preparations. She nodded to Dunn to call her over.

“Ms Dunn? I’ve sent your spacer Chaupi below. I trust he will not be missed aloft?”

The other felinid looked puzzled. “Below? But why-” 

“Very good, Ms Amelia,” Captain Forsythe cut in abruptly, knowing Amelia’s intention. “Carry on, midshipman.”

“Er...aye, sir. Of course.” Dunn shrugged and stopped trying to understand. Amelia gave a look of thanks to the Captain, who had already turned back to business.

“Deploy ventral stabiliser and reduce speed. Barometric pressure?”

“Approximately seventy kilopascals, sir, and steady,” said Costell. “Windspeed holding at twelve knots blowing north by east. Port Machonochie should be coming up off the port bow.”

“Very good. Ms Amelia? Keep a lookout.”

“Aye, sir.” Amelia stepped to the port side rail and put her telescope to her eye. They were steadily descending towards the valley floor, the _Clarissa Fitzgerald_ still leading the way but keeping a wider separation in the thicker atmosphere to avoid the _Resolute_ having to cross her wake. Behind them, the _Elbrus Jones_ was flying substantially higher to keep clear of the turbulence the battleship was leaving behind her. Ahead, the valley floor seemed to widen out into a natural basin that must have been nine miles across. Much of it was occupied by a vast lake, but on the northwestern shore there was a place where the mountains sloped more gently into the foothills and the foothills themselves gave way to a valley as neatly as if a scoop had been taken out of the landscape. Shapes were clustered in a pattern that could only mean a city.

“Port Machonochie in sight, sir!” Amelia called. “Bearing three-one-zero!”

“ _Fitzgerald_ signalling us to follow her, sir,” said Harburn. “The _Jones_ is breaking off.”

Thank you, lieutenant. Mr Costell? Follow the _Fitzgerald_ and begin deceleration.” Forsythe seemed happier now that he could see their destination. Amelia, knowing what she would have to do once they arrived, raised her telescope again to survey the port. Lower down, towards the lakeshore, the buildings were small and there was little sign of urban planning - this, she guessed, was the original Capram trading town that Chaupi had mentioned. But on the upper slopes, the Capram buildings stopped abruptly at a solid stone wall, beyond which the structures were squat, square and unmistakably Imperial in origin. Surmounting it all was a large, fortified building built like a castle keep and flying the New Horizons Company’s yellow flag. On the edge of the little valley on each side were the space docks, long piers jutting out on iron scaffolding. About a third of them were already occupied by small merchant ships, and only the two largest looked capable of accommodating the _Resolute_. They were being directed towards the northernmost of them, and as she watched a heliograph on the pier begin flashing a signal towards them.

“Ten degrees starboard rudder,” said Costell. “Descend through four-zero-zero and commence final approach on thrusters only.”

The _Resolute_ went into a turn away from the city, her course describing a wide circle out over the lake before finally approaching the port level and slow. A shadow briefly loomed over Amelia and she looked around to see Arrow joining her.

“Quite the sight, ma’am,” he said.

Amelia nodded. “I assume the normal dock security protocols will be in place, Mr Arrow?”

“I believe that to be the case.” Arrow looked down at her curiously. “May I ask the reason for your interest?”

“Oh, just wondering about the security situation,” Amelia tried to sound casual. “We’ve a VIP with us, after all.”

“I understand that Mr Bellinger will be accommodated ashore,” said Arrow. “But now that you mention it, the Captain did say he wished to speak to me regarding our arrangements while we were here…do you know something I don’t?”

“I expect that the Captain will fill you in,” said Amelia. She glanced up at the big Cragorian. “But for now...yes, there may well be more to the situation than we expected.”

They were approaching the dock now, the ship creaking underfoot as it decelerated. Figures could be seen waiting to receive them - a number of Capram were standing by the mooring bitts, and a small official party plus a guard of honour had taken up a position behind them. 

“Starboard thrusters! Bow thrusters! Fire on my mark!” Lieutenant Costell called. “Mark!”

“Mooring parties, release head and stern heaving lines!” Chad cried. “Ready hawsers fore and aft!”

Thin ropes were hurled over the side to the waiting longshoremen, who caught and then began hauling on them. The spacers who had thrown them began manhandling the mooring hawsers over the side - heavy ropes several inches thick, their ends tied to the heaving lines to enable them to be passed to the Capram, who began making them fast around the bitts as the _Resolute_ drifted to a halt. 

“Haul her in and secure the breast and spring lines! Out gangway!” Chad turned to Forsythe and saluted. “Ship docked and steady, sir.”

“Thank you, Commander. Well done, navigator,” said Forsythe, giving an economical nod to acknowledge a tricky job done well. “All officers to the quarterdeck!”

The gangway was lowered over the side and lashed firmly into place. As the spacers and longshoremen worked, Amelia ran a calculating gaze over the welcomers below. The Capram were wearing baggy trousers gathered at the ankle to leave their hooves bare, and short, practical tunics. The guard of honour that marched forward and snapped to attention were Capram too, but carried old single-shot laslock rifles and were all dressed in dark yellow justacorps coats and large tricorns of outdated Imperial fashion. There was also a group of guards of other species in more contemporary-style uniforms and carrying modern longarms standing at alert around a small knot of dignitaries, who stepped forward as Forsythe mounted the gangway and began to descend. Bellinger followed him, as did the other officers by order of precedence. Amelia fell in step behind Costell and took her position in the line the officers formed on the dock. 

“On behalf of the New Horizons Company, I welcome you to Capra!” A well-dressed ursid civilian leading the reception party stepped forward and executed a bow. “Ivor Drummond, Chief Executive, at your service.”

“Captain Sir Edmund Forsythe of Her Imperial Majesty’s Royal Light Ship _Resolute_ ,” Forsythe replied. “And permit me to introduce Mr Robert Bellinger of the Colonial Office Inspectorate.”

“My credentials, Mr Drummond,” Bellinger stepped forward to shake his hand and pass him an envelope closed with a large, ornate seal. “It’s a pleasure to be here. I look forward to seeing your work!”

“And we look forward to showing you, inspector,” Drummond shook his hand and then gestured to the dignitaries on either side of him. “May I introduce firstly our head of security. General Cathcart will be overseeing your safety throughout your visit. I will ask him to liaise with your officers, Captain, to ensure that you and your crew will be safe during your time with us.”

Forsythe nodded. “Thank you, Mr Drummond. Colonel Arrow commands my marine company. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to work with you, General.”

Cathcart, a weatherbeaten Tuskrus in a dark yellow uniform encrusted with gold braid, reached out a hand to Arrow, who shook it, but only after a fraction of a second’s pause that Amelia was sure that only she noticed. She made a mental note of it as Drummond waved to another companion, a tall male Capram richly adorned in colourful local clothing. He had tied around his neck an embroidered neckerchief that reminded Amelia of the one Chaupi had loaned to Gray for his paints. 

“I’ll introduce you and your senior officers to my executive team at our official dinner tonight,” said Drummond. “But if I may be permitted one more now, this is Maillu, master story keeper of the Clan Hirca. He will be your guide in the city.”

“My friends, who have travelled across the stars to be here,” Maillu bowed. “We are truly honoured to have you amongst us today. We welcome you to our home and hope for a prosperous future together, side by side. Please accept these gifts - traditional _nays_ , symbols of our culture and custom, on behalf of my clan, my elders, and all Capram people.”

A line of Capram - females, Amelia knew, from their dress and absence of horns - came forward and held out to each officer a neatly-folded triangle of cloth. Everything in their manner was quiet and deferential and Amelia noticed that the Capram presenting to her was quite deliberately avoiding eye contact. She took the cloth anyway and unfolded it. It was a larger triangle, beautifully embroidered with an array of patterns and symbols, some of which she recognised from Maillu’s and some from Chaupi’s, but further inspection was cut off as the Capram moved to tie it around her neck. Maillu himself stepped forward and performed the same service for Forsythe and Bellinger. The latter looked disproportionately pleased at this gesture, and he smoothed his _nay_ out so that it sat more smoothly over the back of his light grey suit.

“We are most grateful, sir,” said Forsythe, whose limited patience with civilian pomp and circumstance was already starting to wear out and had not been improved by having the _nay_ put over the top of his uniform.   
“If I may, Sir Edmund,” said Maillu, “I would be proud to offer a tour of the city to you and your officers, before Mr Bellinger begins his work.”

“There will, of course, be the chance for more specialised tours later, should there be anything in particular you wish to see,” said Drummond. “Naturally, anything outside the city will require General Cathcart’s approval.”

“You have some security problems, sir?” said Arrow politely.

Cathcart grunted. “Merely a precaution. You’ll at least need guides. Can’t have you getting lost in the valley.”

“Indeed not,” said Bellinger. “We’d be most obliged, sir. Thank you. Lead on, Mr Maillu!”

Maillu bowed and gestured expansively. “It will be my honour, sir. Please, follow me.” 

\----------------------------

The New Horizons Company’s settlement at the heart of Port Machonochie was a regimented grid of busy warehouses, grain silos and offices built in Imperial fashion. The workers were mostly Capram, though security was provided by more of the offworld troops and Amelia guessed it likely that the NHC had more faith in these mercenaries than they did in the local Hircan soldiery. There was no opportunity to speak with any of the employees, however - Drummond and Maillu kept the tour moving swiftly and smoothly down the hill to the stone wall that marked the edge of the Settlement. Entry to the settlement was tightly controlled through a series of fortified gates in the wall, which were manned by more offworlders. The roads leading through the gates were wide enough to allow the passage of laden carts, and indeed a convoy appeared to have just arrived. Snorting beasts of burden, driven by Capram handlers, hauled heavily-laden carts uphill towards the waiting warehouses.

“Epo-lami,” said Maillu. “From the Orean pastures up in the high foothills. They will be carrying wool from the imu-lami, and cloth.”

“How far have they travelled?” asked Bellinger.

“It depends. The Orea keep many pastures. But perhaps five days?”

Amelia looked at the convoy as it passed them. It was impossible for her to read the epo-lami, but the Capram drivers looked fatigued. They had clearly been moving quickly and with little rest, and she wondered what the urgency was.

“If you will follow me,” said Maillu, “I will show you the old town, the settlement we Capram built before the Company came.”

“I’d be delighted,” said Bellinger. “So far, everything has been most impressive.”

The Company troops at the gates only glanced up as the party approached, but quickly snapped to attention at the sight of Cathcart and Drummond and moved to clear away any Capram who were lingering in the entrances. Beyond them, the hill continued sloping down towards the vast lake, dotted here and there with watercraft. Amelia glanced around and looked up at Arrow beside her.

“I think it’s an even more impressive sight from down here, Mr Arrow.”

“It is quite a view,” said Arrow. “But it is the architecture that interests me most.”

“I had no idea you were aesthetically inclined?”

Arrow smiled. “Perhaps I should have said _engineering_. This wall, for instance. Battlemented. That’s a lot of work if it’s never going to be used. And do you see how much space there is between the wall and the buildings on each side?”

Amelia looked. There was at least forty metres between the wall and the closest of the warehouses or Capram structures. “Yes?”

“Siege design,” said Arrow. “A wide space on the outside to act as a killing field and to prevent an enemy force approaching unseen. And behind, a wide space to guard against an incendiary attack catching the buildings alight.”

Amelia smiled wryly. “You’ve got a very suspicious mind there, Colonel.”

Arrow shrugged. “I have seen a siege or two in my time, and heard of many others. It is not uncommon for a colony to be built with some defences in mind, but this kind of caution is...unusual.”

“Sweat saves blood.” Cathcart was watching them. “A saying I’m sure you know, Colonel Arrow.”

Amelia caught a flicker of a grimace on Arrow’s face as he turned to the Tuskrus. “Yes, indeed, General. Your troops are fortunate to have such care taken for their welfare.”

Cathcart didn’t reply, but gestured on after the rest of the party. “We’re getting left behind. You should go and catch up with your captain.”

Amelia glanced behind her. Two yellow-coated mercenaries were standing behind them. They were holding their rifles at port, but there was no mistaking the message.

“Come on, Mr Arrow,” said Amelia. “Let’s go.”

They moved downhill at a rapid but dignified pace until they caught up with the others at the base of a tall, circular building, decorated on the outside with angular geometric symbols. 

“This is a fine example of a Hircan Great House,” Maillu was saying proudly. “In fact, it is my own! We build tall, you see, to keep the land for farming. Inside, the house is divided into levels, but with no walls.”

“You live here with your family?” asked Bellinger.

“I do, yes!” Maillu smiled. “My wife, and three children. Port Machonochie is not just a place for work! The traditional way of life that was here before the Company has been preserved.”

“As much as possible,” Drummond interjected politely. “I would be lying, Mr Bellinger, if I said that twenty years of cooperation and coexistence with the Capram hadn’t led to _some_ changes.”

“Oh, naturally, naturally,” Bellinger nodded. “Such is to be expected.”

“For example, the old bartering place is no longer used,” said Maillu. “There are now better ways of ensuring that all can access their needs. But all goods still come here, as they used to.”

Amelia thought of the exhausted convoy. “Like those carts, sir?”

“Yes, like that! Or by barges, along the rivers and across the lakes. There is still a harbour on the shore. And we now have railroads, too.”

“It was proving difficult and inefficient to move bulk ores and processed metals overland,” said Drummond. “They come from the Sabira clan’s mines, which are also too high in the mountains to allow them to be brought down for water transport. With the Hircas’ approval, our engineers have built a number of lines along the valley.”

“There is a terminal just down there,” said Maillu, pointing downhill to a large, semi-cylindrical building of prefabricated Imperial construction. “There will be a train coming in tonight. Then they will unload, and go back in the morning. I am afraid there is nothing to see there now, however.”

“No matter,” said Bellinger. “I’d like to study the timetables, if I may, as part of my evaluation.”

“Of course, inspector!” Drummond smiled. “We are, as they say, an open book. The NHC has nothing to hide from the Colonial Office.”

Amelia was looking around again, taking in the conversation with only half an ear but noting with interest the location of the rail terminal and Maillu’s disclosure of the train expected that night. There were Capram watching them from every door, window and street, but none moved to attract any attention. Their gazes were neutral, neither fearful or hostile, even the children apparently restraining the natural curiosity inherent to the young of every sentient race. There were banners strung across the major streets bearing messages such as WELCOME IMPERIAL FRIENDS and Amelia’s internal grammar pedant found itself wondering whether it was a greeting or an instruction.

“You mentioned that the marketplace was closed, sir?” she asked.

“Yes, the clans have no need to barter any longer,” said Maillu. “But I am sure that, if you or your brave comrades wished to purchase any further, ah, reminders? Souvenirs! Yes, I am sure that would be arranged.”

“We’d be glad to,” said Drummond. “And of course there are shops and canteens available in the Settlement. The Capram don’t use money, you see. They only bartered. Which I suspect would not be of use to your crew, Captain?”

“Quite right,” said Forsythe. 

“Regarding your crew during their time here, however,” said Cathcart. “I need to know the role your troops will be playing in their security so that mine can be positioned accordingly.”

“As per usual procedure in a foreign port,” said Arrow, “we would expect that my marines will be responsible for the security of the _Resolute_. Beyond that, we leave it to you.”

“Glad to hear it,” Cathcart grunted. “Well. My troops will continue to protect the docks and conduct their constabulary duties in town. I trust, Colonel, that I will be able to come to you on any matters that concern both our interests?”

“Of course, General,” Arrow bowed stiffly.

“As for your crew’s shore leave,” said Cathcart. “They’ll have free access to the Settlement and the Old Town during the day, but I must insist that they all be out of the Old Town by nightfall.”

“Security concerns, General?” asked Arrow, innocently.

“Of course not. Port Machonochie is perfectly safe.” Drummond interjected again. “But we try to leave the Capram alone where possible. A shipful of outsiders would be a disruption to their society.”

“A commendable concern, if I may say,” said Bellinger. Cathcart accepted the compliment unemotionally.

“And I must insist that your spacers seek my approval before leaving the city. It is easy to get lost in the valley without a guide. And, of course, there are many towns and villages where the NHC has no presence and your spacers appearing could be...confusing to the locals.”

Forsythe grunted. “You needn’t worry about that. I intend to confine all leave passes to the borders of Port Machonochie. I don’t need my spacers wandering around any more than you do.”

Amelia tried to keep her face expressionless. 

\----------------------------

Once Amelia returned to the ship with the other officers, she went below deck where Chaupi had been patiently waiting. They had both agreed that he would remain there so as to be out of sight of prying eyes. If this mission was to be a success, the NHC and the Hirca couldn’t know that they brought an exiled Capram with them. For the moment he was in Amelia’s quarters getting the paints ready as the space provided privacy that the common quarters lacked. He was arranging the different colors on the small desk when she entered. 

“Ah! Lieutenant, you’re back! I hear you were taken on a tour. How was it?”

“Pleasant enough, which was no doubt the intent,” said Amelia. “They’ve got an enormous amount of storage down there. Goods from all over the valley. We saw a convoy coming in from your clan, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh?” Chaupi’s ears picked up. “Where from?”

“They didn’t say. They said they’d been travelling for five days or so, but they’d obviously been driving hard so they could have covered a lot of distance.”

“Interesting. That would not be my village, but it must have been from one close by.”

Amela nodded. “And I think I’ve found an easy way out of the city. The Company has built railways from Port Machonochie to the Sabira clan’s lands to bring in ore. If we can get on a train, it would be faster and safer than travelling by road. There should be one there tonight.”

Chaupi nodded slowly. “Yes...yes, this works well. It would be safer and my friend who was in the resistance with me may be there.”

“Then that sounds like our best bet,” said Amelia. “I know where at least one of the terminals is. If we can get into the town, I’m confident I can get us out of it. But getting into the town may be difficult. The Company will have troops watching the harbour, and the settlement they’ve built is walled and well-guarded. I don’t like our odds of getting through it.”

“Is there no way?”

Amelia shrugged and sighed. “I’ll ask Colonel Arrow. He’s going to be liaising with the Company’s officers on security. He may learn something that’ll help us.”

Chaupi nodded. “I hope so, ma’am. And how was the town? The people?”

“Not very communicative. But apparently healthy.”

Chaupi seemed relieved. “Well. That is something.”

“You mentioned that you were looking to contact someone in town when you were caught?” asked Amelia.

“Yes. A friend of a friend who I was told could be trusted. A Capram, but one who worked for the Company and who had some information for the resistance. They may still be there. I remember where I was told they lived.”

“We might have time to drop by before we leave,” said Amelia. “If you think it worthwhile.”

“I think we should try,” Chaupi said. 

“I’ll be letting you take the lead on that, then,” said Amelia. “Security in the town didn’t appear to be too tight, but I don’t want us spending a moment longer than necessary there.”  
“Understood, ma’am. Did they show you anything else?”

“Not really. And they weren’t keen on us talking to any of the locals. In fact, they seem to want us to have as little to do with them as possible. But they did give us each a gift.” Amelia then pulled out the cloth she had folded and stowed away in her pocket. “They called it a _nay_.”

The Capram’s reaction wasn’t what she expected. It looked like he’d taken a laslock to the gut at the word. 

“May... may I see it, ma’am?” 

“Of course.” She gave him the fabric without hesitation. 

He looked over the nay closely for several minutes, taking in as much detail as possible. His expression oscillated between outrage and heartbreak. 

“This…” he finally said quietly, “is not a _nay_. It may look like one, but this isn’t a _nay_.” 

Chaupi took his from his pocket and lay both beside each other on the bed. They were quite different from each other now that Amelia could see both of them together. 

“Firstly, these are supposed to be simple and not highly decorated like yours.” He pointed to the two strips attached to two of the triangle’s corners. “These are meant to tie the _nay_ in the front, so it is completely unnecessary to decorate them as the pattern wouldn’t be seen. Clearly yours is not made to be worn properly. Display only. There is also a problem with your ina and quay symbols.” He pointed to two symbols on opposing corners. “They are actually backwards, inverted. But I think that was done on purpose.”

“What makes you come to that conclusion?”

“This is actually well-made, even with the mistakes. The Capram who made this must have been a master weaver. The techniques used here are difficult and complicated so they would have known better than to do this by accident. More importantly, I know that he is the type to do this on purpose since he knew it wouldn’t be an actual _nay_.”

“I take it that you know this weaver personally then.”

Chaupi then turned Amelia’s nay over. At first, the felinid saw nothing. However, when it caught the light, she saw a faint spiral of thread the same color as the backing fabric. 

“My father puts this mark in all the pieces he makes. It’s his way of putting ownership on his work.” The Capram then turned his own _nay_ over and Amelia saw the same mark. “He made my _nay_ personally when I became a story keeper.” He lingered there for a silent moment lost in his own thoughts before he shook himself out of it and turned the _nays_ back over. 

“That brings me to the biggest problem with your nay. A _nay_ is supposed to be for a story keeper and nobody else. Each one is personalized, decorated with the story that best fits the story keeper. Mine is about Aliyma, the first story keeper who, in this scene, is sneaking out of the Dead Land of Ice to bring knowledge to her people at the encouragement of Inaya.”

Even though she was clearly unfamiliar with the tale, the design on Chaupi’s _nay_ was a coherent narrative on its own. There was a Capram figure that seemed to be fighting against a raging blizzard while clutching some sort of orb to her chest. In the wind was a faint face.

“What story does mine represent?”

His tone went from forlorn to frustrated. “Nothing. These symbols were chosen for their looks and not their meaning. I have memorized hundreds of stories and not a one is represented here.” 

He walked away from the bed and paced the room, his anger becoming more apparent as he spoke. “That’s the problem with your nay. It isn’t a _nay_ because it means nothing! It isn’t to be given. It is _earned_. Being a story keeper is more than just telling stories. We have no written language so all of our history, our knowledge is passed down through the story keepers. We train to memorize hundreds of stories and records. We are taught how to give counsel and to advise. We tell stories not just to entertain, but to inform, teach lessons, inspire. Anyone can tell a story, but not everyone can be a story keeper. Your nay isn’t a _nay_ because it can’t simply be _given_ to you. It would be the same as if a civilian was given a naval uniform. It does not mean anything because they did not put in the effort and the time and the training to gain the skills necessary to have earned that uniform.”

He slowed down with a sigh, forcing himself to calm down “Clearly,” he said carefully, “such things didn't occur to the NHC when they had my father make this. If they bothered to learn of the _nay_ ’s importance, it never would have been given away to you. No, they saw something pretty and just took it without thought or care. I wouldn't be surprised if they were selling these offworld for profit.”

“Actually, Mr. Chaupi,” Amelia began carefully. “A Hircan story keeper gave these to us. His name was Maillu.”

This revelation caused the Capram to stop his pacing. His expression was crestfallen, defeated. He needed to sit down and chose the bed. “I… I knew that the Hirca worked closely with the NHC and served their own interests over the rest of Capra but… but I never expected they would stoop so low. I knew Maillu. We’d met a few times before during larger gatherings. I didn’t particularly like him all that much. Half the time, all he did was snow talk.”

“Snow talk?”

Chaupi sighed. “That explanation will be for another time. What I mean to say is that Maillu uses his words to serve himself and the Hirca clan without truly caring how it affects the rest of the Capram people. I wouldn't have expected that a story keeper could do this, but if it was anyone, I am not surprised that it is _him_.”

While he had calmed down significantly since the outburst moments ago, Amelia knew that the rigger was still emotionally stressed by the news she had given him. He needed some space before they can begin their mission.

“Concentrate on setting the paints in order. I want to have them applied as late as we can afford to do since the resin base is only temporary. It would not do for it to wear out before we can get anything done. In the meantime, I will see to it that we can covertly exit the ship and get underway tonight. Understood?”

Relief and resolution showed on Chaupi’s face. “Yes, ma'am.” 

“Very good.” Amelia turned. “Carry on. I’ll go and find Mr Arrow.”

\----------------------------

Amelia closed the cabin door quietly behind her. Arrow, with his impeccable sense of timing, was already coming down the passageway towards her.

“Ah, Colonel,” she smiled. “Just who I was after.”

“I believe I know why,” said Arrow. “I’ve just been speaking to the Captain.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Enough, ma’am,” Arrow looked concerned. “I must say, while I’m sure you have good reasons for your concerns, the risks you’re taking are considerable. If you’re caught, it won’t just be a matter of being charged for absence without leave.”

“I know. It’ll be a diplomatic incident and the Colonial Office’ll have my head.”

“Someone will, ma’am. But I doubt it would be the Colonial Office. General Cathcart may not let it get that far before taking his own measures against you.”

“You know Cathcart?” Amelia raised an eyebrow.

“I know _of_ him,” said Arrow, his face grim. “He was a Royal Marine once. A brigadier with the force deployed to put down the Verengarian Uprising.”

“What happened to him? Why would a senior officer like that end up working on a backwater colony for a merchant venture like the NHC?”

“Because he was drummed out,” said Arrow. “Stripped of his rank and publicly expelled from the service in disgrace. Along with most of the senior officers from his brigade.”

Amelia raised her eyebrows. Officers were exempted from corporal punishment, and drumming-out was as serious a penalty as possible short of the death sentence. It was rare that an officer made a mistake serious enough to warrant it. She asked the obvious question. Arrow sighed.

“Cathcart was found to have employed some...unsanctioned methods when it came to pacifying the Verengarian population under his control.”

“Such as?”

“Reducing it. Significantly. He particularly favoured collective punishments. If so much as a stone were thrown at any of his marines, he would burn the nearest settlement to the ground even if there was no proof of who was responsible. And if any of his marines were killed, he would not only burn the settlement to the ground, but ensure that the settlers were still in it when he did so.” Arrow’s face was cold. “He was a disgrace to our uniform. I am not comforted at the thought of him donning the NHC’s uniform and being responsible for controlling another colonial population.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” said Amelia. “I’m sure he hasn’t changed his ways…”

“As am I,” said Arrow. “Which is why I would feel better if you were to take this.”

Amelia looked down at the leather holster he offered her. Taking it, she felt its weight, and opened it to see a compact laslock pistol inside. It was of civilian design, sleeker and smaller than the naval-issue weapons she was used to.

“It was given to me by your great-uncle,” said Arrow. “It was part of his private collection, and then became part of mine. The Captain did not tell me precisely what you will be doing, and nor do I wish to be told if it is not my part to know, but I would not be able to face your family if I did not do what I could to ensure your safety. A naval-issue weapon would lead to questions were it to be lost or taken from you, so this is the best I can do. It lacks the power of our sidearms, but will suffice in a pinch.”

Amelia smiled and tucked the holster into her belt. “Thank you, Mr Arrow. I’ll be trying my best not to need it.”

Arrow smiled back and touched his hat. “Thank you, ma’am. I will sleep better for knowing that.”

Amelia nodded. “Now...if Captain Forsythe has briefed you, then you’ll know that-”

“You need a discreet way off the ship. Yes, ma’am. Sergeant Ko is making the arrangements as we speak, though you should wait until well after nightfall. I suggest using the fore keel hatch.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow. The keel hatches were small maintenance accesses set right at the bottom of the hull to give access to the areas of the ship’s belly that couldn’t be reached by bosun’s chairs slung over the side.

“We will have marines on deck and the pier, and the NHC will be guarding the entrance to the docks. But I doubt that they will be patrolling the hillside below us,” said Arrow. “With a Jacob’s ladder, you should be able to climb down to the edge of town, bypassing the port security. I’m afraid that, once there, there will be no more I can do for you.”

“Still, it sounds an elegant solution,” Amelia nodded appreciatively. “Once in the town, Mr Chaupi and I will use the ore train due in tonight to leave. He has friends we can contact.”

“I’m reassured to hear it,” said Arrow. “But try not to go too far. We are only here for a limited time.”

“I know, Mr Arrow. I promise I have no intention of being left behind.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Arrow smiled. “And Mr Chaupi...you trust him?”

“I do. He may not have told me the whole story, and doubtless his view is coloured by his feelings towards the NHC.” Amelia sighed. “But there must be some truth to it. You’re the one who pointed out how the fortifications in Port Machonochie were designed. And you saw the guards, and that convoy that came in. Did that look like a picture of happiness and shared prosperity to you?”

Arrow nodded agreement. “I concur, ma’am.”

“And then there are those neckerchiefs we were all given when we arrived. It turns out they’re fakes. I don’t know if everything Chaupi says is the whole truth, but I know for damn sure that what the Company says won’t be.” Amelia shrugged. “So the only way to find out what’s really happening here is to go out there myself.”

“Good luck then, ma’am.” Arrow glanced around at the sound of footsteps and saw Mr Whiting approaching, taking off his hat and heading for his cabin. “Good afternoon, sir.”

“Good afternoon, Colonel. Lieutenant.” The young canid nodded to them both cheerfully. “Getting ready for shore leave?”

“Yes, sir. Just discussing it.” Arrow smiled. “But now, if you’ll excuse me?”

Whiting stood aside to let the big Cragorian past him, and then looked at Amelia. “Well, it looks like our good captain of marines isn’t slowing down any time soon. But I trust you’ve got some plans to keep yourself busy while we’re here?”

“Oh, yes.” Amelia nodded and smiled. “I imagine I’ll manage to keep myself occupied…”


	4. Chapter 4

The _Resolute’s_ orlop deck was mostly filled with the sickbay and armoured magazines, both set near the centre of the ship to keep them away from any enemy shells that came through the outer hull. The rest of the space was a warren of tiny rooms, some of them the quarters of the ship’s petty officers, others holding stores or machinery. All lighting was artificial, and it got even darker and more cramped as Amelia and Chaupi followed Sergeant Ko down a narrow stairway, so steep it was practically a ladder, into the ship’s hold. Ko was carrying a lantern to light their path as they picked their way forward along a narrow walkway set atop the kelson, pausing occasionally to step over the massive transverse frames which shaped the hull. 

“You sure there’s nothing more you need, ma’am?” said Ko. “Last chance.”

Amelia shook her head. She and Chaupi had changed into civilian attire and had small knapsacks slung over their backs. On the basis of what she had seen in Port Machonochie and what Chaupi had told her, she was cautiously optimistic that she could pass for a Company employee and Chaupi as a local worker - so long as nobody looked too closely at the amateurishly-applied paints on his patched-up horns or picked Amelia as a stranger. Not being able to take anything that could be traced back to the ship had been a challenge, but they had managed eventually.

“No, thank you, sergeant. An effective distraction on the dock will be more than enough.”

“You needn’t worry about that, ma’am. We’ve got it all covered.” Ko grinned mischievously. 

“Dare I ask?” said Amelia.

“Well, they’re servicing the ship right now, ma’am. Pumping out the waste tanks. One of the hoses is going to burst. Or at least, it will if I’ve done my job right.” Ko stopped and looked down at a hatchway beneath them. “Either way, I wouldn’t look back.”

“No fear of that,” muttered Amelia. Ko knelt to open the hatch, then stood to untie a Jacob’s ladder that had been affixed to the deckhead above it. As she unrolled it, Amelia peered down. It was a clear drop of over thirty feet to what passed for the ground, which was itself a steep slope running down to the edge of town. She glanced up at Chaupi.

“Think you can handle that, spacer?”

“Absolutely, ma’am.” Chaupi nodded, clearly eager to get moving. “Shall we go?”

“Hold your horses, son,” said Ko. “Wait for the distraction. The pumps should be running at full capacity.”

“I hope nobody’s going to get hurt in this,” Amelia looked at Ko, who grinned again and shook her head.

“No, ma’am. Not even if they’re standing right by the hose. Of course, they might need a wash afterwards…”

Sounds were filtering into the hold from the outside world. Amelia could hear the drumming of the vacuum pumps as they drained the ship’s bilge and sewage tanks. Then the sound changed as the pumps raced for a moment, roaring angrily, and then shouts rang out through the noise. Ko nodded with satisfaction.

“Sounds like your cue, ma’am. Just give two tugs on the ladder when you’re down.”

Amelia took a deep breath as the other felinid unrolled the ladder, which dropped straight through the hatch with a clatter of wood drowned out by the racing pumps. She nodded her thanks to Ko, who saluted.

“Good hunting, ma’am.”

“Thank you, sergeant. We’ll see you soon.” Amelia stepped onto the shaky ladder and began making her way down as fast as she dared. Chaupi followed close behind. Up above, they could hear yelling and cursing as the dockworkers raced to shut down the pumps. Knowing that they had little time, Amelia dropped the last few rungs and caught herself on the slope. Chaupi jumped down alongside her, and she reached out to give two sharp pulls on the rope. Almost at once, the ladder began ascending out of view towards the dimly-lit rectangle in the curving hull of the ship above them. Amelia was tempted to watch it go, but knew that it wasn’t her job and they had more pressing concerns at hand.

“Ready? Good. Let’s go.”

The slope was treacherous, with only the thinnest of soil covering stony, rocky deposits that shifted easily under pressure. It would have been a challenge to anyone but a felinid and a Capram, and even she and Chaupi had to watch their footing as they scrambled down through the darkness towards the edge of the Old Town. They took cover in a drainage channel running around the back of what looked like a vegetable garden and looked behind them. Back up the slope, the _Resolute_ hung immobile, the hatch in the hull closed and her sides illuminated by the torches of the dock. She could still hear the commotion caused by Ko’s sabotage, but it appeared - insofar as she could see and hear - that nobody had noticed their leaving. Amelia waited a few minutes to be sure, and then allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief and focus her mind on what to do next. Chaupi had been looking the other way, into the town, watching for any sign that they had been spotted, but there hadn’t been any shouts or alarms. 

“Well, Mr Chaupi.” Amelia crouched next to him. “Where to now? We’ve got a contact to find, don’t we?”

“My contact’s name is Suyani. But he’s also known by his code name, Tayki.” Chaupi scanned the scene. “He will be in one of the great houses used by the unclanned workers.”

“I’m sure you’ll have time to explain just what that means later,” said Amelia. “I don’t suppose you know which one?”

“It is down by the edge of the town,” Chaupi pointed downhill towards the lake. “I will remember the way when I see it.”

They picked their way through the Old Town carefully, trying to draw as little attention to themselves as they could. While most Capram here weren’t fond of the NHC and kept to themselves, and their civilian attire did not immediately mark them as out of place, there were always those who were willing to report suspicious activity in hopes for a reward of some sort. Luckily, because it was night, few were out and about. 

“It has been some years since you were unable to meet him,” Amelia pointed out. “He might not be here anymore.”

“I understand, ma’am. But I have to try. He must have risked his life to get whatever it was he had to show me.”

“Do you know what it is?”

Chaupi hesitated. “Not...exactly, ma’am. Evidence of some sort.”

“It had better be worthwhile if he took that kind of risk.” Amelia glanced at a Capram walking past them, but they averted their eyes and looked away. 

“It may be,” said Chaupi. “But...if I may, ma’am...I’d suggest you stay back when we meet him. He will think that you are from the Company, and that may frighten him.”

Amelia nodded. “You’re the guide here.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

They turned a corner to head downhill. They were on a street of shops which had clearly been spruced up for their visit, with welcoming banners and fresh paint very much in evidence. Most of the stalls were closed, but there were one or two open, light spilling through the windows along with the telltale sounds of drinking. Amelia’s heart froze for a moment as she saw a yellow-coated Capram stepping a little unsteadily out of one, one of the local guards with an antique laslock rifle over his shoulder. He saw her and there was a half-moment where she seriously considered reaching for her pistol before he appeared to straighten himself up and salute. Guessing that he thought her a Company official, she summoned up her sense of authority and gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement before he relaxed and took himself off uphill. Amelia sighed with relief and looked back to where she could see Chaupi had also been nervous.

“Not far now, ma’am,” he said.

“Thank goodness.” Amelia took a deep breath, looking over her shoulder to make sure that the guard was still heading away from them. “Let’s make this quick.”

Chaupi knocked on the door of the Great House, trying not to look too suspicious. Amelia, sheltering in a shadow some distance away, tried to keep one eye on him and another on the street. After a moment, the door opened and she saw Chaupi make a flowing hand gesture to the person on the other side. There was a brief conversation in a language she didn’t recognise and assumed to be native Capram before the door closed and Chaupi came back to her.

“Suyani is not here,” he said. “But I know where he is. He is at the epo-lami stables.”

Amelia grimaced. Her nerves were beginning to rasp under the tension, but there was no choice other than to find him. “Fine. Where are they?”

“Back up the hill, but on the edge of town, by one of the main roads in.” Chaupi pointed.

“At least that’ll get us closer to the train terminal,” said Amelia. “All right. Let’s go.”

The stables were a long, low, ranging building under a thatched roof, and they smelled like any stable anywhere in the galaxy. Amelia wrinkled her nose as they entered and saw the epo-lami in their stalls. There were several dozen of them, and Amelia recognised the harnesses strung up on the walls as belonging to the convoy she had seen arriving earlier that day. There were one or two Capram working there, raking out stalls or filling feeders. One of them looked up and caught sight of Amelia. He coughed and began speaking in slow Imperial Standard.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, we-” Amelia stopped and caught herself. “Actually, Mr Chaupi, you’d better take the lead.”

Chaupi nodded. “I am looking for Suyani. Is he here?”

The Capram frowned. “He is. Why?”

“I am a friend of his,” said Chaupi. “I was supposed to meet him earlier today, but I was late.”

The stablehand seemed to accept this. “You wait. I find.”

“You’re quite the natural liar, Mr Chaupi,” murmured Amelia as he left. “And I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

Chaupi grinned. “Perhaps I am thinking of it as just another story! Besides, it was not _technically_ inaccurate…”

“I suppose not.” Amelia grinned back.

There were footsteps behind them and they turned to see the stablehand returning with another Capram in tow. The newcomer looked like a young male, and he was dressed in Imperial fashion with a vest and shirt. There was a visible flicker of terror in his eyes as he saw Amelia and she took a step back and looked away to appear less threatening.

“Suyani?” Chaupi stepped forward.

“I- yes?” The young Capram nodded, his initial alarm giving way to confusion.

“I’m Chaupi. A friend of Inaya.”

Suyani looked skeptical and asked Chaupi something in their native language, leading to a conversation that the felinid couldn't follow, but which included the codename “Tayki” that Chaupi had mentioned. Deciding to make herself useful, Amelia waved to the stablehand to leave them. She stepped into the nearest stall and Chaupi followed her, beckoning Suyani to follow them.

“She is a friend,” said Chaupi, seeing how Suyani’s eyes kept flickering to the felinid. “It’s all right. You can trust us.” Whatever conversation they'd had, it must have worked to ease the nervous Capram.

“You are a friend of Inaya?” Suyani’s Standard was remarkably fluent, his accent only slightly more pronounced than Chaupi’s. “The resistance leader? I sent word to her years ago…”

“Yes. She sent me to find you. But the Hirca caught me.” Chaupi spoke quickly. “I am sorry.”

Suyani shook his head. “I did not realise anyone had come...I thought the word had not got through.”

“What was it you had to tell us?” asked Chaupi.

“Not to tell you. Show you.” Suyani said. “I...have something for you. But not here. Come with me. Quickly. Imperials do not usually stay here for long and the stablehand might grow suspicious if we linger.”

Suyani led the way to the back of the stables, explaining as he went.

“I work for the New Horizons Company,” he said. “I’m a messenger in one of the offices in their settlement. I was able to get documents about what the Company is doing here.”

“How?” asked Amelia.

“One of the Company people, an offworlder like you,” said Suyani. “She and I became friends. She showed me the documents. Taught me what they mean.”

Chaupi looked surprised. “She took a great risk.”

“Leaking information?” Amelia looked at him.

“That, too. But I meant in teaching Suyani to read it. The Company does not encourage literacy amongst us.” Chaupi smiled sardonically. 

“Usually not. But she wanted to help. She knew what was happening was wrong. So she gave me the documents. I was going to give them to you, but you never arrived.” Suyani nodded.

“Did you keep them?” said Chaupi, looking around.

“Yes. Of course. I thought that you had not tried to find me. I thought that maybe, someday, someone would come.” Suyani said. “So I hid them. And I added to them, as I could. Hid them here. My sister is married to the stablemaster. I trust him.”

Amelia couldn’t help but feel a sneaking admiration for the young Capram. She wasn’t sure precisely what the penalty for his activities would be if the NHC found out about them, but suspected that it would not be light. That he had held his nerve and continued them, at daily risk of detection and without even knowing when or whether anyone would answer his call, was quite a feat of character. He led them into a storage shed containing bundles of animal feed, and climbed up on top of them, reaching for a supporting roof beam. Amelia glanced around to make sure there was nobody watching them, and then looked back to see Suyani jumping back to the floor, a leather satchel of obviously Imperial manufacture in his hands. Of the method of concealment, Amelia could only guess that the beam had been hollowed out from above. Suyani held it out to Chaupi.

“Here. This is everything.”

Chaupi opened it and Amelia caught a glimpse of a wad of papers, some curled and yellow with age, others white and crisp. The crest of the NHC was visible on a few of them, confirming their authenticity, but there was clearly no time to go through them there.

“Thank you,” she said. “For whatever this is.”

“I hope it helps,” said Suyani. He looked at her. “Are you with the Company?”

Amelia hesitated a moment, but decided that she could trust him. “No. I’m with the Navy. The ship that came in today.”

“Ah! Yes, the inspection.” Suyani nodded. “My friend has mentioned that. The Company has gone to a lot of trouble for it. Is it important?”

“It ought to be,” said Amelia cautiously, not wanting to say too much in case it prompted Suyani into doing something rash. “We hope to make it so.”

“Who is she?” asked Chaupi. “Your friend.” 

Suyani hesitated. “I...should not say. She has not wanted her name about this.”

“Understandable.” Amelia nodded. “Well, Suyani, all I can say is that we’ll do our best. In the meantime, you should be careful. And tell her to be as well. Now is not the time to let your guard down.”

Suyani nodded. “I will be sure. I have other friends in the city, too, though they do not know me as Tayki. I will let them know also.”

“Good.” Amelia turned to Chaupi, who was stowing the satchel in his pack. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Suyani asked.

“Away from here,” said Chaupi. “There is a train coming in tonight from the Sabiran mines?”

“Yes, but you will have to be fast,” said Suyani. “The trains do not stop here. They arrive, unload, and then leave at once for more.”

“Then we have no time to lose,” said Chaupi. “But we will take your gift to Inaya. She will be most thankful.”

“I hope it does some good,” said Suyani. “There are many of us hoping that the resistance will find a way…”

“As do we.” Chaupi nodded. “Thank you. But now we should leave. Do not look for us.”

“Good luck.” Suyani and Chaupi clasped each other’s shoulders in what Amelia guessed was the local equivalent of a handshake, and then parted quickly. Chaupi hefted his pack over his shoulder and turned to Amelia.

“I believe there is nothing further for us here, ma’am,” he said.

“I agree. We’ve lingered long enough already.” Amelia said briskly. “The train terminal is uphill from here. Follow me.” 

\----------------------------

Amelia had hoped to arrive after the train that she remembered was due that night, as she expected it would prove a useful distraction. As it was, however, they found the station vacant. It was a massive, hangar-like space big enough to hold a complete loop of track that would enable a train to enter it and leave without turning around. One leg of the loop led past a series of gaping holes dug into the side of the hill, which Amelia guessed led to underground storage silos. Given the scale of the facility, the number of workers - only a dozen or so - was not huge, but it was enough for Amelia to want to keep a safe distance. Fortunately there didn’t seem to be anyone outside the terminal, where the tracks led off into the gathering gloom of the valley, so she and Chaupi found a concealed place in a ditch and waited. It wasn’t long before Chaupi spotted a light approaching along the tracks.

“I think that’s it,” said Amelia. “But let’s wait. We’ll have to board it when it’s on the way back out.”

“Right, ma’am,” Chaupi nodded. 

The train drew closer. The steam locomotive was a snorting, ugly, grey, brick-shaped thing powered by a single large lateen-rigged solar sail. Behind it came the goods wagons, nearly twenty dirty cars with high, riveted sides bearing the NHC’s logo underneath the streaks of rust. A mournful horn sounded from the engine as it approached the station, but Chaupi was staring at the creaking wagons, which were full above their brims with rocky metallic ore.

“Oh Inaya,” he breathed. “There must be hundreds of tons. Months of effort for an entire Sabiran village working by hand. Maybe even a whole year.”

Amelia was watching it through a more tactical gaze. Bringing up the rear of the procession was a guard’s van sporting a raised cupola. She could see figures standing in it, and she drew Chaupi down deeper into the shadows as it passed. 

“Damn,” she muttered. “I’d been hoping they wouldn’t have security and we’d just be able to hitch a ride on the last car. Looks like we’ll have to mount up somewhere further forward.”

The train slowed as it lowered its solar sail and crawled into the station, a hiss of escaping steam soon drowned out by the screeching of dry metal as the brakes engaged and the wagons began bumping together. Amelia watched them enter the well-lit space inside the hangar, and then saw something that gave them a chance. As the wagons passed by the gaping pits they passed over an angled device set between the tracks that appeared to disengage a locking mechanism, enabling the hoppers to rotate to the left under their own weight, dumping their contents into the storage with a rumbling roar. 

“Hello…” she murmured.

The locomotive, now pulling the train at a little less than walking speed, completed its turn and began heading back out, railing its sail once again. Amelia and Chaupi ducked low again as the beam of its single headlamp passed over them, and they waited for it to creep past, blowing steam from its pistons. The emptied wagons stayed tipped onto their sides, meaning that their open mouths were exposed to the ditch where they waited. A short way further on, the wagons passed over another angled device that tipped the wagons back to vertical with a squeal of protesting metal. 

“I think that’s our best chance, Mr Chaupi,” said Amelia, checking that the guard’s van was hidden on the other side of the train. 

“I agree, ma’am,” said Chaupi. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Amelia tightened the straps on her knapsack and began creeping up the side of the ditch, picking out a wagon as it came towards them. “Come on. On my mark...now!”

She sprang to her feet, gripped the lower lip of the passing wagon, and swung herself up into it. The interior was dusty and she fought back a spontaneous bout of coughing as she turned to help Chaupi up behind her. Once on board, they scrambled back towards the middle of the wagon and braced themselves for the stomach-lurching swing back to vertical. The rusty bearings scraped agonisingly as it swung, but then it clunked heavily into place and Amelia and Chaupi found themselves looking up at the starry sky, the steel walls on each side of them only just tall enough to see over when standing up straight. Amelia coughed again and sighed with relief.

“Well,” she said. “I suppose we just have to see where this goes now.”

“If it goes into Sabiran lands, it may take us close to my home,” said Chaupi. “My village was close to a Sabiran town. I know the area well.”

“Then I’ll trust you to keep an eye out for landmarks,” said Amelia. “But we’ll have to be careful. There must be at least two of Cathcart’s men in that guard’s van back there, and that cupola gives them a view across the top of the whole train.”

Chaupi nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“In the meantime, I suggest we make ourselves whatever passes for comfortable,” said Amelia, looking around the rusty, pitted interior of the wagon. “Which may not be much.”

Chaupi shifted his knapsack into a corner of the wagon to use as a cushion. “I have slept in worse, ma’am.”

“I’m not sure that I have,” Amelia smiled wryly. “But try to get some sleep if you can. I’ll stay on watch and wake you if anything happens.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Are you sure?”

“One of us has to. It might as well be me,” Amelia shrugged. “I only wish I could make a start on those documents Suyani gave you. But I can’t risk a light in here.”

“Of course not, ma’am. I agree.” Chaupi nodded and sat back. He rested his head on the top of his pack and looked up at the night.

“It is good,” he said, to nobody in particular, “to see a familiar sky again.”

For Amelia, while there was no beating the sight of the stars when sailing through the Etherium, there was something about seeing them from a planet’s surface that made them seem vibrant. In space, the stars were mere navigational points or a backdrop that she could easily put out of her mind, but from the surface of a world they seemed to be somehow more alive, framed as they were in a view that must have been marvelled at by countless souls over the generations. The train’s steady motions gave her time to think about what she had seen and where they were going. It was already apparent to her that things were not as the New Horizons Company had presented, or as Bellinger believed. The mere existence of a resistance that was radically opposed to the occupation, including Chaupi, was proof of that. But how bad was the situation, and would it be enough to force Bellinger into action? If the resistance were no more than a few malcontents, then there was almost certainly nothing she could do, and she and Chaupi were risking their careers and lives for nothing. But if it wasn’t, and the fears seeded during her brief tour of Port Machonochie proved right….

After a few hours, she woke the Capram up so he could take watch as she rested. It wasn’t too difficult to fall asleep, all things considered, after being used to the continual ambient noise on a ship. It wasn't a particularly comfortable sleep, but it was sleep nonetheless. There was a point when she was woken up by the Chaupi after he had heard a few shots of laslock fire. However, it turned out to be little more than the train guards taking potshots at some improvised target out of boredom. Her racing heart kept her from falling asleep again, but Amelia rested her body anyway. There was no telling when the next opportunity would be. 

\----------------------------

Daybreak brought the opportunity to go through the documents Suyani had given them. Quite a few of them had wrinkles that indicated that they had been crumpled. It was as if they had been thrown out or hastily stuffed into a pocket. Amelia sorted through the jumble of reports, memos, and records of personnel movements. She was sure there was some significance to all of it to make it worth the risks Suyani and his contact had taken, but most of it would only become apparent after detailed study. Instead, she turned to one of the more recent-looking documents and began reading it, her eyes growing wider with every line.

“Unbelievable,” she murmured to herself.

“What is?” Chaupi looked up from his piece of the hard ship’s bread they had split for breakfast.

The felinid gestured to the paper in her hand. “This! It’s a memo about preparing for our visit! It talks about the reception, the tour they gave us...as well as the restrictions they put on us, and some of what they didn’t want us seeing. ‘Under no circumstances should the Inspector and Naval visitors be permitted beyond Port Machonochie or to solicit the views of the native populace with no Company intermediary in attendance.’ That _must_ mean they’re hiding something from us.”  
Chaupi looked puzzled. “This was not obvious already?”

Amelia grinned. “Not provably. And it’s not like they didn’t know about this - that looks like Drummond’s signature, and General Cathcart’s. So much for the happy picture they painted for us...”

“Then their _ina_ hasn’t changed.” Chaupi shook his head sadly.

Amelia gave him a quizzical look. “You’ve mentioned that word before. What does it mean?”

Chaupi’s face lit up, glad to have the opportunity to explain. “It is a central part of Capram philosophy. When you discuss the idea of truth, it is something that is objective and that for any given event, there is only one truth, am I right? This is what you meant when you spoke of ‘proof’ just then.”

“Yes.”

“We call this objective truth the _quay_. The key point of difference between us is that while you might seek the _quay_ as if it is possible to find, Capram understand that this is impossible to know. Everything we experience is filtered through our perception.” 

“And while we may both go through the same events,” Amelia said slowly to make sure she understood where this was going, “our experience of those events would be inherently different.” 

“Correct. This kind of truth is what we call the _ina_. Functionally you may think of it as another term for ‘perception’ but it is more nuanced than that.”

“In what way?” 

“It is perception, but one that is determined by the context not only in which it was made, but how it is used afterward, including how we talk about the events themselves. We may tell different stories of such events based not only on how we experienced them, but also on what details are important for not only us, but for the point we are trying to make for the audience in front of us. However, even with such differences, neither are any less true than another.”

The felinid mulled this over. “What about lies? Where do they fit in all of this? A lie is the opposite of the truth, but it’s no longer a dichotomy when multiple conflicting truths or _inas_ are possible.”

Chaupi took a moment before he responded. “The difference between truth and lies is not so stark for us as it may be for you. After all, if someone wholly believes something that may not be what you consider to be strictly true, are they lying? If someone chooses to deceive someone by presenting the the truth in a particular way, are they really truthful? And even if something is completely fabricated, by virtue of being told, it becomes all or only a part of the information about any given person or thing. As it becomes a part of the body of knowledge, even if it is proven to contradict everything else, there is a subjective truth to be found within it. It must be judged, criticized, or believed just like any other piece of information we receive in our lifetimes. There’s an _ina_ to be found in any lie in one way or another.”

Amelia wanted to ensure she understood. “So you would say that if someone hears one thing, believes another, and says something else entirely, then all are functionally true are in their own way? And that since there are always going to be differences, there really isn't one singular truth?”

“Yes, though there is an objective truth out there, we just can never truly know it as we are beings of perception and thoughts and opinions. We consider the _quay_ to be in the realm of the plants and animals. They do not think, so they do not know to perceive things as anything else but what they are.” Chaupi helped the felinid gather the documents to keep them from being scattered by the wind. 

“Spoken like a true philosopher, Mr. Chaupi,” Amelia smirked.

From the head of the train came a sudden, shrill blast on the engine’s whistle. Amelia and Chaupi sat bolt upright, instantly alert.

“Ma’am?” Chaupi’s hand strayed towards his pack.

“I don’t know,” Amelia’s ears flicked. “But they must be signalling someone. We’re probably coming up to a crossing or something. Damn! I wish we could see out.”  
Chaupi looked up at the sheer walls around them, briefly contemplating climbing up to the rim of the wagon, but knowing it was too risky with the guard’s van behind them. He looked back down to see Amelia checking the power cell on her compact laslock pistol. She caught his eye and tucked the weapon into her belt.

“Just in case, Mr Chaupi. It’s not my first preference.”

The growling note of the engine changed down and Amelia felt the wagons lurch and bang into each other as the train slowed. Her pulse quickened and she hurriedly checked that her own pack was ready in case they needed to make a rapid exit, as well as the satchel into which Chaupi was stuffing the stolen documents. 

“Why would they be stopping here?” she muttered. 

“I don’t know, ma’am,” said Chaupi. “We’re nowhere near Sabiran land. This can’t be the end of the journey.”

“Must be a checkpoint, then,” Amelia grimaced. “Right. Stay still and quiet and get away from the sides. We won’t do anything if they don’t make us.”

“Right, ma’am.” Chaupi shifted into the centre of the wagon. Amelia joined him as the brakes squealed on and the train shuddered gradually to a halt. They waited with bated breath, every sense straining to detect what was going on. After a time they heard the crunch of boots on gravel and voices by the side of the train.

“Stebbin! You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Good to see you, too, Mylor. How is it back in civilisation?”

“Port Machonochie? Boring as a graveyard. Bosses have everything locked down tight while the bigwigs are here.”

The sounds of gravel stopped. The men speaking were right next to the wagon, separated by no more than a couple of millimetres of cheap steel. Amelia barely dared to breathe, and could only hope that the dust didn’t set her off coughing again.

“Better to be out here than back there,” said the voice identified as Mylor’s. “You should count yourself lucky.”

“Lucky to be babysitting this bucket of bolts?” the other voice laughed. “I don’t think so! I’m still waiting for it to fall apart.”

Proving the point, a series of kicks were directed along the bottom of the wagon. One of them hit a rusted patch of steel and burst through it. Amelia stared in shock at the iron-shod boot which had come through the side just inches away from her. There was a moment of silence, and then a burst of raucous laughter.

“Nice one, Stebbin! Nice one! They’ll probably dock your next pay packet to fix that!”

“Yeah, really shaping up to be my lucky day, this.” Stebbin sounded resigned. “Let’s get this over with. You’ve got all your stuff out of the van?”

“It’s all yours,” said Mylor. “See you on the way back.”

The footsteps crunched away again. Amelia got down on her knees and chanced a glance out of the hole. A yellow-coated NHC soldier was walking back down the train towards the guard’s van with a bag over his shoulder along with his rifle. Another was walking away from the tracks towards a small building. The railway was now running through a grassland, but it was already notably higher up the sides of the valley than Port Machonochie had been.

“I think they were just changing the guards,” she whispered. “They must work in shifts. But by the stars that was close.”

“Too close, ma’am,” Chaupi exhaled and shook his head. 

The engine’s whistle blew again, and the train lurched and clattered back into motion. Amelia and Chaupi finally allowed themselves to relax again. 

“The sooner we can get off this thing,” said Amelia. “The happier I’ll be. You said we weren’t near the Sabiran lands, but how far are we?”

Chaupi hesitated. All Capram had an instinctive grasp of the scale of their valley, but it was hard to judge the speed of their travel without being able to see out of the wagon. “I could not really say, ma’am. Perhaps a day? Maybe more? The Sabira live on the higher slopes and the air does not feel thin enough yet.”

Amelia grimaced. “Well, let’s just hope they don’t change the guards too often. Stay sharp, Mr Chaupi. I’ve got some reading to do…”


	5. Chapter 5

“Ma’am! Wake up!” 

Chaupi was shaking Amelia urgently awake. It took her a moment to appreciate her surroundings. It was probably less than an hour after daybreak and at first she feared discovery, but then she realised that the train was rattling along as usual.

“Chaupi? What’s happening?”

Her hand strayed to the butt of her pistol, but Chaupi shook his head.

“Nothing like that, ma’am. But we have to get off this train now.”

“Why?” Amelia sat up and looked around, trying to see what was wrong. They’d been climbing steadily for the last day, the grassy lowlands giving way to cool forests and lichen-covered rocks. Grey, sheer-sided mountains reared up above them on the right, distant caps white with snow.

“Because I know where we are,” said Chaupi. “I recognise the peaks here. I can lead us to somewhere we’ll be safe. Somewhere I have friends who can help us. And we are passing close to where I was born. No more than half a day’s travel along the slope.”

“Are you certain?” Amelia gathered up her pack.

“Absolutely certain,” Chaupi nodded. “But we have to go now.”

“Right.” Amelia nodded briskly in return. “We’ll have to go over the sides. Packs first, then we follow. I suppose we’ll just have to take our chances with the guards spotting us.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Chaupi checked the straps on his knapsack and braced himself for the throw. Amelia joined him, checking that the satchel of evidence was securely stowed in the bottom of her pack. Chaupi’s knapsack described an arc over the side of the wagon, and Chaupi himself was up and over behind it half a moment later. Amelia swung her own pack over the top, then scrambled up, took a moment to gauge the speed of the train and where she would land, and rolled over the edge. There was a brief moment of falling, and then she hit the ground and rolled. She felt herself roll from gravel into earth and bracken, and she lay still as the rear of the train passed by her. She expected every second to hear a warning shout or the sting of laser fire, but there was nothing. Looking down the track once the train was past them, she saw the guard’s van, where a yellow-jacketed figure was clearly sprawled asleep on the rear deck. Thanking her stars that the NHC clearly didn’t hire for quality, she finally let herself release the breath she had taken before the jump from the wagon, and stood up, brushing herself down.

“Ma’am?” Chaupi joined her, passing over her knapsack. Amelia took it with a nod of thanks.

“Are you all right, Mr Chaupi?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. And you?”

“A few bruises, but nothing of consequence.” Amelia shrugged on her pack. “Now, then. Where are we going?”

“I want to show you my village,” said Chaupi. “To show you what the Company has been doing to us out here. But we can’t go straight there. We’ll need help and some supplies. And I know where to find it.”

\----------------------------

After a few hours of hiking through the forest, Amelia knew more about the phrase ‘snow talk’ than she would ever know what to do with, but at least the phrase itself could prove useful. She had asked what it meant as an idle conversation-starter to pass the time as they walked, but her innocent question had prompted Chaupi to launch into an extended discussion of Capram vernacular and the cultural meanings that hid behind seemingly every phrase, each building upon the last. Everything seemed to relate to a folktale of some sort, and Amelia began to appreciate why Chaupi had described himself as a ‘story keeper.’ 

They had crossed the train tracks and started heading uphill through virgin forest. Amelia could see why the planet’s timber was so highly prized - the slopes they grew on and their drive not to be overshadowed by neighbours uphill drove the trees to breathtaking heights, with no branches at all until they reached the canopy high above. Within any hundred metre radius, Amelia could see perhaps a dozen trees that could produce single-piece masts for a ship-of-the-line. She was about to remark on the fact to Chaupi when she nearly ran into the back of him. The Capram had stopped and was looking up a short escarpment to a ridgeline.

“I know this place,” he murmured. “We are nearly there. Come, follow me.”

They turned to follow the line. Amelia, somewhat grateful for the relatively level footing for the first time that day, asked Chaupi exactly where they were aiming for.

"It is a secret hideout that I and a childhood friend had for years. At first, we just used it for fun and games, but we found another use for it as we got older." Chaupi and Amelia came to the base of a rocky cliff face. He paused as if he was pondering the rocks.

“Something to do with the resistance then, I presume.” Amelia surveyed the rock face as well, despite being unsure of what to look for.

“I told you of the clans, yes? Well, when Capram broke the Company’s rules, sometimes the village or even their entire clan would be punished by the Hirca by withholding food. Either the offender would be set straight by their hungry kin or they would be outcast to save the rest. As they are separated from their people, they also become removed from the supply line. They are forced to fend for themselves. This is why many of them work in Port Machonochie, or other places for the NHC. They have little other choice. And now after twenty years, there are children being born into that status because their parents were cast out.” Chaupi was still scanning the rock, but took the time to shake his head sadly. “My friend and I took what we could, when we could, and hid it away here before we could give to those who needed these supplies, both struggling villages and the unclanned. I do not see a reason she would stop. Unless she was caught, but,” he smiled to himself, “she was always too clever for that. Unlike me.” 

He seemed to make a decision and bodily nudged a stone aside to show a small opening. Amelia approached the hole with some concern, not seeing any reinforcements for the tunnel. 

"Is this the only entrance? This doesn't seem particularly safe."

Chaupi nodded. "No, but it is the only entrance on this side of the mountain. The tunnel system is vast, but this was meant as an escape route." 

In a show of good faith, Chaupi elected to enter first, taking special care to make sure that his horns didn't scrape the low ceiling while in a crouch. The pair didn't say anything until the tunnel opened enough to barely stand, then the Capram continued his explanation, though his head was still bent at an awkward angle.

"The tunnel system had been abandoned for some time, forgotten. But we did what we could to fix it up in secret. Nobody else knows it’s here. Even when friends and supporters came to deliver things, they were never allowed in."

The Capram motioned for Amelia to stay put as he went on to scout around the bend. After some painstaking moments, he returned and gave the signal that all was clear. Amelia followed him to find a sizeable cavern. She now had the ability to stand with a few meters of clearance, finding herself in a space that had roughly the area of the main deck of the _Resolute_. While a good portion of space was taken up by the natural formations of the cave, the remainder was largely taken up by a sizeable pile of neatly-arranged supplies. Food, textiles, building materials, and an untold amount of odds and ends, often stored in crates bearing the branded logo of the NHC. Propped along the wall was a circular, stringed musical instrument. Chaupi was kneeling down and admiring it fondly. 

"It has been so long since I have seen this," he murmured, almost to himself as he idly plucked an out-of-tune string.

"Chaupi, was this all just the two of you?" Amelia reached out to the nearest crate, almost in awe of the operation being undertaken here. But when she received no answer from him, her guard went up and she began turning quietly. "Chaupi?"

Her hand halfway to her holstered sidearm, Amelia looked around and saw that a rifle was pointed at his face at point blank range. She recognized it as one of the old models the Hircan guards had carried, but the muzzle started lowering before Amelia could draw her own pistol. Shock and disbelief were etched in the hard features of the would-be assailant's long, snow-white face. A female Capram, about Chaupi’s age, was staring at him as if he were a ghost. She wore a black dress with a full skirt and long sleeves, but it served as the backdrop for intricate and brightly colored patterns and was partially covered by a colourful headscarf that was long enough to be draped across her torso. The stranger was brought out of her reverie as she noticed Amelia's presence and her face shifted to an angry scowl, her hands resuming their grip on the rifle. The barrel started rising again, this time towards Amelia, but Chaupi stepped in front of it and they began speaking to and fro in rapid-fire Capram, but even Amelia could guess at the broad strokes of the exchange.

 _“First you disappear without a word and now you bring an Imperial here?”_ she demanded.

 _“Wait! 'Sisa! I can explain!”_ Chaupi raised his hands in a placating gesture.

_“Start.”_

_“We have been deceived. About everything.”_

_“This is not new to me.”_

_“But even about the Empire! They had no idea about what was going on here. I told them about what life is like here, for us, not the Hirca. They didn't even know! They've been deceived just as much as we have and now they're here to witness it for themselves and set things right.”_

The woman considered this and lowered the rifle from her shoulder. She watched Amelia carefully as if waiting for the felinid to make a move of some kind. While she was clearly not entirely mollified, her tone was even and measured as she switched languages to address her in accented Standard.

"What say you, Imperial?" Amelia got the feeling that the stranger was only allowing things to progress because Chaupi was there. She finally moved her hand away from her pistol now that it seemed that the physical threat was gone for the moment.

"I can assure you that I am no friend to the New Horizons Company,” she said. “I’m a naval officer. And my name is Amelia, not 'Imperial.'"

The female Capram seemed to be sizing her up for a moment, eyeing her appraisingly before glancing at Chaupi, who gave a small nod. Whatever unspoken exchange had taken place seemed to break the ice.

"And mine is Nasisa," said the Capram. 

As she turned and walked away, Amelia gave Chaupi a questioning look before the pair followed her to the far corner of the cavern. There was a small, hastily doused campfire that still glowed with fleeting embers with a modest cooking pot resting on top. A neatly made bed roll was nearby. Nasisa sat down, relit the fire, and set her rifle on the ground beside her. Amelia took a spot opposite her and Chaupi positioned himself between the two women. There was a tense silence as the female Capram took a bowl and ladled out a thick soup. When she realized that she only had one bowl, she sighed and got up to retrieve two more from a nearby crate. She served both Chaupi and Amelia soup in continued silence. There were no spoons, so Amelia followed Chaupi's lead and drank straight from the bowl. The taste was strange to her, but not unpleasant. At the very least, it was filling, and a welcome change to the dry rations she had brought from the _Resolute_. 

Nasisa cut through the silence. "If your Empire is powerful enough to think that it can enact change here, how is it that it has only now decided to do anything? Your people have been here for 20 years. How is it that you have failed to notice the injustice to my people before now?

"I know that my being here can only do so much," Amelia began softly. "Neither I nor anyone else can know the... _quay_ of what's happening here.” Amelia looked to her guide to make sure she was using the term correctly. It was important that she showed that she was at least making an effort to try to understand the Capram people. After affirmative confirmation, she continued. 

”Until recently, the Empire seemed to only know the Company's _ina_ and thought it was the _quay_. However, Chaupi's _ina_ has changed all of that. I can't speak for the Empire. The Empire can be cruel, driven by greed, willing to turn a blind eye to suffering when it's convenient. But it can also be selfless and courageous for the betterment of others. I don't think there's anything I could say that everyone in the Empire would agree with, but I've seen what corruption can do. I also know that nothing can change unless more _inas_ are heard. That’s why I’m here. My Captain trusts my _ina_. He let me come out here to see what’s happening, and so, if my _ina_ contradicts the NHC, then there is a chance that yours will be able to be heard as well.”

“This was your idea?” said Nasisa.

Amelia nodded. “Chaupi told me what was happening here. I didn't think I could just do nothing if I can do something, even if it amounts to nothing in the end."

The felinid gestured to the room around them. "I assume that's why you do all of this. You may not be able to change what is out of your control, and you know that the only things you can do don't necessarily mean that the problems will go away. But you still have to try."

The two women stared in silence for some time. Amelia couldn’t tell if she had won Nasisa over, even if in some small way, especially as a stranger who was skilled enough to run a smuggling operation such as this to such a scale for so long. At some point, each of them turned to Chaupi who was attempting to quietly enjoy his meal. He managed to return an encouraging smile with a full mouth. 

“What is your plan?” asked Nasisa. “I assume you have one.”

“I’m from a ship which put into Port Machonochie two days ago,” Amelia said. “We were carrying an important person. An inspector - a sort of judge - from the Imperial Government whose job is to see what the New Horizons Company is doing here and whether it’s allowed under the terms of the agreement they have.”

“The agreement with the Hirca?’

“No. With the Empire.” Amelia sighed, knowing that there wasn’t a nice way to explain this. “You must understand that the Empire has claimed control over your planet. Capra is within our borders. The Empire allowed the Company to trade here under certain conditions.”

Nasisa bridled. “What right have you to make such decisions for Capra?”

Amelia raised a hand, hoping to copy the gesture Chaupi had made when Nasisa had him at gunpoint, and nodded. “Yes, I know. I don’t pretend it’s fair. But it is what it is, and here and now, I’m only here because I want to put things right.”

“You don’t know what the Empire is like, ‘Sisa,” said Chaupi. “It is huge. Bigger than even I could have imagined before I was taken away. And powerful. And it has enemies, and people like the Company. But it also has people like Amelia. She has risked her life to save others. To defeat injustice. There are many planets, billions of people, who are protected by people like her.”

Nasisa looked back to Amelia. “So. What will you do? Tell this inspector that the Company is ravaging Capra? And they will make it better?”

Amelia ignored the sceptical tone. “The inspector can order the Company to leave you and Capra in peace. But only if we can prove that the Company is doing the wrong thing. Chaupi led me to a friend of yours in Port Machonochie who gave us some of that proof.”

“It was Tayki,” said Chaupi. “You remember.”

Nasisa blinked and nodded. “Yes...you were going to meet him when you disappeared.”

“But we need more than that. I need to see for myself what’s happening. So Chaupi is going to take me to his village.” Amelia went on. 

“To your village? Chaupi, there is a checkpoint on the road. And it will take you days to go through the forest.” Nasisa looked concerned for the first time.

“I know,” Chaupi said. “But I will lead her there anyway. We will find a way.”

Nasisa sighed and shook her head. "If you plan on doing what you say, then I cannot let either of you leave here looking like that. Your horns will be spotted at once, Chaupi. And Amelia is no Capram."  
“So we’ll need disguises,” said Amelia.

Nasisa nodded. “Yes. For Chaupi it will be easy. All we have to do is fix that awful paint on his horn. For you, we will have to be more creative. Fortunately we have some clothing here, donated by our supporters. There will be something there.”

“I have had some thoughts about that,” said Chaupi. “But as for my horn, it is not just paint I need.”

He bowed his head for Nasisa’s inspection. She frowned critically, but Amelia saw a look of genuine concern pass over her face as she peered closer. Her hand touched both of Chaupi’s horns, first the painted one then the one without. Nasisa came away rubbing her fingers together, puzzled over the strange substance she found.

“What is all this?”

“A resin. It will wash out in water,” said Chaupi. “It was the best we could do. But I need _lenga_ sap, and the proper paints.”

“Of course.” Nasisa sat back heavily, her eyes never leaving Chaupi. “When we finish this meal, you will come with me.”

\----------------------------

Nasisa led them deeper into the hill, picking her way through a labyrinth of narrow gullies and shadowed crevices. Amelia could hear the sound of falling water growing closer and they soon reached a place where a small waterfall cascaded down a fall of moss-covered rocks into a pool. Amelia took the opportunity to refill her water bottle while Chaupi took off his coat and shirt and knelt to begin washing the resin out of his horns. Nasisa knelt next to him, using a rag to assist. It was then that she realized the true extent of the pitting and scarring in his horns. While the Capram woman didn’t audibly react, Amelia could read the horror on her face as the pair spoke quietly.

“What happened to you, Chaupi?” she asked, more tenderly than Amelia had heard her speak before.

“I was captured by the Hirca in Port Machonochie,” said Chaupi. “I suppose I was lucky in a way. They didn’t want to admit to the Company that I was a problem, so they just locked me away in the next ship to leave and told the crew not to let me out until they reached port.”

“But your horns-”

“They stripped my paints first. To make sure I couldn’t come back.” Chaupi closed his eyes and took a deep, painful breath at the memory. “They used acid. I’ve been trying to heal them ever since, but the Empire does not have our medicines.”

“Chaupi…”

“Anyway,” the story keeper kept going, clearly forcing himself to stop thinking about the traumatic experience, “I was left in a port with nothing. So I joined the Royal Navy to survive. And because I knew that, one day, perhaps I would find a ship that would come back to Capra.” He paused. “To you.”

Amelia smiled to herself at the confirmation of a suspicion. Putting the cap back on her canteen, she stood up and withdrew to a discreet distance. Nasisa had explicitly forbidden her wandering off alone, but she knew when a couple needed privacy.

“To me?” Nasisa stared. Chaupi simply nodded.

“I never stopped thinking of you. Or of Capra. However long it took, I knew I would be able to return.”

“I…” Nasisa looked away. “I did not let myself think of seeing you again. After you disappeared...I thought you were dead.”

“I understand,” said Chaupi softly. “It would have been easier, in a way.”

“It was.” Nasisa nodded. “Especially because I was the one who sent you to Port Machonochie. But your family never lost hope. They always believed you were alive somewhere.”

Chaupi seemed relieved. “I shall look forward to reassuring them.”

The horns were dried with a fresh rag, carefully as if they were fragile porcelain. Chaupi gathered his things and the three returned to the main chamber. While the crates weren’t labeled, Nasisa seemed to know where everything was. She had Chaupi move a crate to get at one below it, collected an arm’s worth of phials, and handed them to Amelia. Another crate was moved in its entirety to the fireside. This crate had pots of what Amelia came to realize were what the paints were supposed to look like. There were far more shades than she was expecting and the pigments opaque. She moved brushes aside to make room for the phials she had carried. 

Soon, Chaupi was seated cross-legged on the ground with Nasisa on a stool behind him. One by one, she opened the phials and poured the thick and viscous liquid onto a rag a little at a time. She pinned Chaupi’s head between her knees in order to keep it still as she buffed the liquid into his horns. 

“For most,” Nasisa said to nobody in particular, “the damage to a horn is small. Only part of one phial is all that is needed. But here….” She trailed off, letting the implication hang as she opened another phial. The damage to the entirety of Chaupi’s horns, including what had been unpainted, was cruel and unusual punishment.

As Nasisa worked on his horns, Chaupi remained unbothered despite how rough the motion looked to Amelia. He had that strange round instrument on his lap. The felinid got a closer look at it now. Eight strings were pulled taut over a circular hole in the center and to one side were eight metal tines of differing lengths. After tuning the instrument, the Capram placed finger picks on both hands, which he used to idly pluck the strings and strike the tines. He wasn’t playing any particular tune, or at least none that Amelia recognized. The sound was light and gentle, though it took an eerie tone as it echoed through the cavern. When Chaupi noticed that she was watching, he motioned to her to join them.

“This is a _vaisu_ ,” he said, “a traditional Capram instrument. It is not the only one, but the only one I know how to play.”

“If that child’s plucking is what you call playing,” Nasisa snorted behind him.

“I am just out of practice!” He tried to turn his head toward her, but was swiftly corrected and forced to relent with a sigh. “You used to enjoy my playing, ‘Sisa!”

“No, I could just never make you to stop. How is it, Amelia,” the Capram woman was addressing her in a lighter tone than when they first met, “that you made him quiet on your ship?”

Amelia had been examining the disguise that had been selected for her, a black dress similar to Nasisa’s though worn and threadbare, but couldn’t help but play along with the banter, pleased that they were slowly building a rapport. “I must admit that I never had him in my command so it was never my duty to try. I don’t know how Dunn does it.”

“You must have liked it a little,” Chaupi teased. “You never threw it out when I disappeared.”

Nasisa pointedly ignored the remark. By then, she seemed to be slowing down with her heavy buffing. The sap had filled the minute cracks and pits that had been left by the acid’s scarring. Unlike the temporary resin, it didn’t cover the horns like a protective layer, but provided an even surface without suffocating the living material. 

Nasisa contemplated the paints in the crate beside her. “Chaupi, have you decided for your disguise?”

“Yes, Orean novice laborer, unmarried. I do not know for the parents.”

“I will start then, and you will tell me when you have thought of more.” The Capram woman then picked up one of the clay paint pots and began to brush the thick pigment onto Chaupi’s right horn.

Amelia watched with curiosity. “You mentioned before that you needed your horns painted for a disguise. What did you mean by that?”

Chaupi’s eyes brightened at the chance for another lesson. The felinid regretted this immediately after remembering the immense lecture on their way here, but it was too late to recant her question. Nasisa, however, seemed to sense this - or was all too familiar with Chaupi’s enthusiasm - and took pity on her, intervening before a more long-winded explanation could begin.

“The Capram language,” she began, “varies depending on who you are and who you speak with. But to know what to say to a stranger, you need to know their position in our society. The paints do this before conversation begins. The first stripe tells you the clan. Following that are stripes for the family, the parents and any children you may have before finally showing your own.”

Chaupi continued for her as she began concentrating on painting. “The paints display the roles and status of those most important in your life. The spouse does not get a stripe, but the entire left horn. Most, but not all, relationships are between those with horns and those without. Or with horns that are too small to properly paint. So the one with horns wears the paints for both.”

“While the one without, usually a woman, wears a _qor_ ,” Nasisa added. “Just as all men of age have painted horns, all women of age have a _qor_. So we will have to find one for you, Amelia.” She took a pause in her work to gesture to the headscarf she wore. Amelia noticed that it had a similar type of design to that emerging on Chaupi’s right horn. Though the observation was cut short when Nasisa lightly slapped Chaupi’s hand away from playing with the fabric. She then returned to her work as if nothing happened. 

Her charge didn’t even try to hide his playful grin before he continued. “If you are unlucky enough to be unmarried, then the left horn is bare. It is the same for the stripes if you do not have children or if anyone does not have a role for whatever reason. A death however is in white, like the lifeless snow. The stripe is never erased even though they are no longer with us. Paints are to never be removed, just painted over. Or at least they are not supposed to,” he added wryly. 

Chaupi continued, however, before anyone could dwell on the pain behind the comment. “For the unclanned, their clan stripe is painted white. That practice started when becoming unclanned was incredibly rare and signifies that they are dead to the clan. Either that or they are considered strangers who came from the snow.”

“Or from the white clouds,” Nasisa muttered under her breath. Even though the comment wasn’t directed toward Amelia specifically, the sentiment was clear. The strangers from the sky brought death with them. If not physical death, then a death to the Capram way of life. She gazed into the middle distance for a moment before catching herself and resuming the explanation.

“So the paints here,” she went on, “Say that Chaupi is an unmarried, novice, Orean laborer. It will be easier for him to enter the village this way. Novice laborers are young and strong enough to do manual labor and lack the experience or skills to do more refined work. For the Orea clan, this means looking after the imu-lami herds in the far-off pastures in small groups. Nobody would think twice about a stranger like that coming into the village looking to resupply, so he should not have much trouble getting where he needs to go.” 

Amelia couldn’t help but acknowledge the inevitable. “But I would. I’m not supposed to be anywhere near here. I can’t hide in plain sight like Chaupi can, and I don’t think I could pass for an NHC official out here.”  
A spark of an idea came to Chaupi. “You could wear a shawl.”

“What?” Nasisa asked incredulously. 

“A great shawl. You know, like the ones the old women wear under their _qors_? The ones that they pull forward to cover their faces? Amelia could wear one of those and pretend to be my mother. It would even fit with my disguise because it’s cold in the high pastures-”

Nasisa was still skeptical. “Only the oldest women still wear those things every season. And a woman that old would only speak Capram. It is not possible to teach her our words so quickly. And if you are supposed to be coming from the pastures, how could you explain why you bring your mother?”

“I could do the talking for the both of us. I only need to get her past the guards at the entrance. Once we are in my village, someone is sure to recognise me and help.”

It seemed that Amelia and Nasisa had something to agree on. The plan made the felinid uneasy as well. “That’s a lot of assumptions to make. It requires that you can talk your way past the guards and that the village would welcome you back with open arms to take care of the rest. That’s even before considering if they would be willing to extend that assistance for my sake.”

“The village would welcome him,” said Nasisa firmly. “Did I not say that his family still hopes for him? And his father is a master weaver. He commands much respect. So the people will assist you - but not for _your_ sake.”

“And as for talking,” said Chaupi smugly. “That is what I do. But...it would help if we had some trade goods with us.”

“I have some trinkets that would suffice,” Nasisa nodded and took a pouch off her own belt. “Here. Take what you need.”

Amelia caught it as it was tossed to her and opened it. It contained an entirely unremarkable collection of small personal items - a pocketwatch, an embossed leather wallet, a small mirror - and she looked up questioningly.

“Not to be rude, Nasisa, but what use are these?”

“Capram always carry a number of tradeable items when we travel,” said Chaupi. “We never used money, so trade was done by barter. For us, though, it will be less barter than-”

“Bribe?” said Amelia.

Chaupi nodded and smiled. “Just so. But Company soldiers don’t know the value of Capram goods, so it is easier to use things that they know.”

“And Hircans don’t know the value of Imperial goods, so it is easier that way, too,” grinned Nasisa. “Do not take too much. It will encourage them to demand more.”

Amelia nodded and made her selections. “And while we’re gone, what will you do?”

“Stay here, of course. This place must always be tended.” Nasisa paused in thought. “And perhaps...I assume that you will be returning here from the village. So I could send messages to the other resistance groups nearby. They would be interested to meet you. To know if they could help.”

“I’d hate to set them up for disappointment,” said Amelia cautiously. “But it would help to speak with them. The more united a front you can present against the Company, the better the chances that you’ll be able to convince the inspector.”

Nasisa nodded. “I will send word. It will take a few days, so you need not hurry back.”

“We should be away for only a few days,” said Chaupi. “I will show her my village and what has happened there. Speak to my family. Then return.”

“Then I will have to be quick,” said Nasisa, who gave no sign of being intimidated at the fact. “Most of the resistance in this region are Sabira like me, or Orea like Chaupi, but there are some Wilia and even some Hirca who oppose their elders. I cannot promise they will all come, but...this may be our best chance in years. I wish you luck.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've written a few chapters but I hadn't been able to publish them here until now since I only had my tablet during the winter break. Thanks for your patience!

The road to Chaupi’s home village had evidently been widened by the NHC, earth cut from the side of the hill having been piled up to form an embankment for it to run along. Amelia guessed that a footpath had once followed the same path. Even so, she was glad of the smoother going of the road, and the replacement of the narrow rope footbridges favoured by the Capram with sturdier designs of timber and stone build to take the weight of laden carts. Chaupi and Nasisa had spent some time teaching her how to wear her borrowed shawl and _qor_ and to move like an elderly Capram female would. It was not uncomfortable once accustomed to it, but it was still harder going than her usual confident stride. There was nobody else on the road with them, but as it was always possible that they would have unexpected company, both were taking pains to maintain their disguises, though they could at least still speak to each other for the time being.

“My village is called Quranaq,” said Chaupi. “It is not large - maybe two hundred people at most. Others come and go during the seasons, so it will not be unusual that we arrive there.”

Amelia nodded despite the fact that Chaupi couldn’t see her face under her voluminous disguise. “Nasisa said there’d be guards on the road. How many do you think there’ll be?”

“Hard to say. Probably four or five? But they are not all on duty at once.” Chaupi shrugged.

“Only one checkpoint, then? That’s a mercy, at least,” said Amelia.

“The NHC cannot be everywhere at once,” said Chaupi. “And with the _Resolute_ and Inspector Bellinger in Port Machonochie, they have probably concentrated their security there.”

“What kind of forces have they got?”

“Nobody knows for sure,” said Chaupi. “But less than most Capram think. They maintain their rule by fear, and with the aid of the Hircans allied with them. The Company itself probably has only a few hundred mercenaries. Probably fewer than the crew of our ship. They also have the two gunboats that led us in, and a number of smaller craft. Whenever there was trouble far out in the valley, they would send those rather than march their soldiers all the way there.”

Amelia nodded. It was always useful to know the balance of forces in any theatre. 

“One more thing, Mr Chaupi...your friend back at the hideout. Her name’s Nasisa. But Suyani seems to know her as Inaya. I understand why an underground leader might need a _nom de guerre_. But is that all there is to it?”

“Yes...and no,” began Chaupi.

“Let me guess,” Amelia smiled. “It’s a complicated story.”

Chaupi chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. Inaya is...you could think of her as a goddess. She is the inspiration that gives all Capram life and makes us different from animals. She offended the other gods, who would have kept us as simple beasts, and for that she was punished. But as they destroyed her form, she hid herself inside us all, preserving her legacy and allowing us to preserve her in turn.”

“Ah. I think I can see why a resistance leader would use the name.”

“Precisely. At first, it referred to both leaders and to the resistance as a whole. It was hoped it would confuse the Company, making them uncertain whether they were opposed by only one person or many. But...over time...the resistance fragmented. When it began it was sponsored by dissident elders from all the clans, even the Hirca. But...one by one, those elders and leaders fell. The resistance became a loose network of cells, not all known to each other. We lost the ability to take action together. Now Nasisa is the only ‘Inaya’ left. And even she must be careful not to draw attention to herself.”

“I hadn’t realized that the resistance was in such dire straits,” said Amelia.

Chaupi nodded sadly. “I fear we may be running out of chances. That’s partly why this mission is so important.”

“We’ll give it our best, Mr Chaupi. That’s all we can do.”

“Yes, ma’am. I know. Thank you.” Chaupi’s smile quickly gave way to a look of alarm. “Now we must be quiet. The checkpoint is ahead.”

Amelia got in a quick glance before she bowed her head and concentrated on maintaining her disguise. At a dip in the road ahead, a barrier had been set up. A handful of figures stood at it, some in Company yellow. A short way up a slope was a small hut which she guessed to be the guardhouse. She wished she could pause and get a better view, but she knew that they had probably been spotted by now and couldn’t risk doing anything suspicious. All she could do now was trust to Chaupi’s act to get them through. Even so, she reached under her voluminous clothing to where her pistol was holstered and gently primed it, the high-pitched whine briefly attracting Chaupi’s attention.

“Just in case,” Amelia whispered. “Carry on.”

Chaupi nodded and took her arm as if giving her support as he led her towards the checkpoint. The Capram travelers held up at it were released on their way, passing Chaupi and Amelia and heading uphill. The mercenary who seemed to be in charge of the checkpoint finished stuffing something away in a bag on his belt and turned to beckon them.

“Next! Step forward and halt!”

Chaupi took a deep breath and took Amelia’s hand to guide her forward. Trying to keep her heart rate down, Amelia waited a moment as if she were a little hard of hearing before she followed him. The guards stood in front of them.

“Name and destination,” said the voice which seemed to be in charge.

“M-Minta, sir,” said Chaupi, his voice soft and diffident, and his accent deliberately more prominent. “This is my mother’s mother, Kamarisa. We are going to Quranaq.”

“Where have you come from?”

“From Posaci, sir.”

“Why?”

“Why? B-because we were in Posaci, sir-”

“I meant,” said the guard, “Why did you come from _there_ to _here_?”

“To find work, sir,” said Chaupi. “I am a herder. I keep the imu-lami herds. But now there are no herds, so I have come here.”

“So why are you here, grandmother?” The guard had evidently turned to her, but Amelia remembered that she wasn’t supposed to answer, and kept silent.

“My grandmother is old, sir. She does not know your language,” said Chaupi. “But she is a widow, sir. I look after her, so she travels with me.”

“Really? Not a word of Standard?”

“It is common among the oldest of us,” said another voice, this one with a Capram accent. “She must have seen many rains before the Company came here.”

“Huh. Old and ignorant, is she? Whatever.”

Amelia, looking down under her great shawl, could see only the ground in front of her. Wary of moving too much and drawing suspicion, she counted three pairs of feet - two booted, which she guessed to be Company mercenaries, and one-hooved, indicating a Hircan, who was presumably the one who had explained her muteness. Chaupi was still holding her arm, but she slowly moved her free hand towards her pistol. With the advantage of surprise, she reckoned she could drop two of the guards before the third could react, but she estimated no better than even odds of being able to neutralize them before they got off a shot - and that assumed that there were only three, she reminded herself, and Chaupi had warned that there might be as many as five, meaning that any others would be uphill in the hut and have the advantage of firing from higher ground. She took a deep breath and waited.

“What makes you think there’s work in Quranaq?” said the guard.

“I...I heard there was a mill there,” said Chaupi. “The wool from the imu-lami comes here so I thought I could find a job.”

“And what will you do if you can’t?”

“Go somewhere else,” said Chaupi. “What else could I do?”

Amelia watched the guard’s feet begin walking up and down in front of them as he replied. “Well...I’m sure touched by how hard you’re trying. And they could use another pair of hands at the mill in Quranaq. The lazy bastard running the place needs all the help he can get.”

Amelia felt rather than saw Chaupi tense next to her, but his words were calm. “Thank you, sir. I will work hard.”

“You think your grandmother can work, too? There’s a lot of mouths to feed around here. A useless one ain’t going to help anyone.”

“I will look after her, sir. I promise she will be no burden to anyone.”

“She’d better not be. For your sake. But,” the guard stopped. “I suppose we could let her pass. If you make it worth it for us. You’re hoping to find a lot in Quranaq. Only fair you give us a cut of it now”

“Like what, sir?”

“What do you have? You people always have something. You got any food?”

“Not much, sir-”

“Well, let’s have it. Any cigarettes?”

“No, sir. But I have a gas match to light them with.”

Amelia listened with gritted teeth as Chaupi played the part of the meek itinerant labourer. The indignity of the situation grated on her nerves and it took every ounce of her self-control not to throw back her hood and draw her weapon. Was this how it was for Capram every day? She realised that it probably was, and saw with a sudden insight that, whatever the greater damage to their culture and livelihoods the Capram were enduring, it was the small, daily humiliations such as this which might be the resistance’s most effective recruiting tool…

“That’s all that I have, sir,” said Chaupi. “My grandmother has nothing. I carry it for us both.”

“It ain’t bad.” Amelia heard the guard flicking the switch on the gas match once or twice to test it. “Still works, too! All right. You two are free to go. Make sure you give that mill boss a kick up the backside, though. I hear they’re coming to have a word with him - and they’ll have it out with you, too, if you’re there.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Chaupi bowed and took Amelia’s arm. “Come, Kamarisa.”

Amelia waited half a moment before following him, as if she hadn’t understood the instruction in Standard, taking care to maintain her limp. She didn’t dare speak until she sensed that they had rounded a bend and Chaupi broke the silence.

“We’re past them, ma’am.”

Amelia sighed with relief and eased the safety catch back on her pistol. “That was harder than I thought. Why would they be paying that much attention to a traveler and his grandmother?”

Chaupi shrugged. “Sometimes they are stricter than others. Having the _Resolute_ visiting has probably made them more vigilant. And if someone is coming to Quranaq, they will want to be looking busy.”

“Ah, yes. To see the mill owner,” said Amelia. 

“He’s not the owner!” Chaupi snapped before remembering himself and looking contrite. “Er...forgive me, ma’am. It’s a little...close to home, as you’d say.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Mr Chaupi. I understand. It’s your hometown, after all.”

“Yes, and...the manager of the mill is my father.” Chaupi was staring straight ahead.

Amelia blinked. “Your father runs the mill?”

“He is the elder weaver of the village. When the Company built the mill, he was the obvious person to place in charge of it.” Chaupi sighed as they passed a carved standing stone set by the roadside. “He did not want to do it. But if he hadn’t, the Company would have found someone else. And at least this way he could try to minimise the harm.”

“At some cost to himself, it sounds,” said Amelia.

Chaupi nodded and for a moment looked genuinely fearful. “Yes. I am worried. Even my mother would not be able to protect him if the Company sends people out here.”

“Your mother?”

“She is a master...well, the word translates as ‘enforcer’,” said Chaupi. “But you could think of her more as a...magistrate. Or adjudicator. If two villagers are in dispute, she will bring them to an agreement. Or refer the matter to the elders.”

“You have quite the family, Mr Chaupi,” remarked Amelia. “Is there anyone else? Brothers or sisters?”

“No. Many families have only one child now. There is no longer enough to go around to support more than that.” Chaupi looked sad and Amelia wondered if being an only son was a sensitive matter for him.

“How much further is it to the village?” she asked instead.

“Technically, we entered it as soon as we passed that stone back there,” said Chaupi. “But if you mean where the people are...ah, then we are here.”

Amelia risked raising her head to look around. They were standing at the edge of a large clearing in the forest, an area several hundred metres across. She could see longhouses, some more than thirty metres from end to end, raised on short stilts and built on several levels in order to run down the gently-sloping hill. Their walls were of painted timber and their roofs were heavy thatch. 

“I assume those are your clan’s version of great houses?” she said.

Chaupi nodded. “The Hirca build theirs tall to save farmland. We build ours long so that bolts of cloth can be spun and rolled out.”

Set amongst the longhouses were smaller buildings of stone. Windowless, Amelia guessed them to be storehouses. But in the middle of the village was another building, of obvious Imperial construction - a red-brick, half-timbered block that Amelia guessed to be the mill from the water wheels built into it. They were turned by a swift-flowing stream that ran approximately through the center of the village. Amelia couldn’t help cringing at the sight of it, its squat, industrial bulk so grotesquely at odds with the harmonious design of the rest of the village’s structures. 

“What a godsawful abomination,” she murmured.

There were Capram moving about between the buildings, crisscrossing the spaces which Amelia now saw were given over to various purposes - animal pens, grazing fields, small gardens - but none seemed to have noticed them at the edge of the forest. 

“We should try the mill first,” said Chaupi. “And don’t worry about our disguises. Everyone here will know me so we need not keep that story going. Although...you should probably keep yours for now. People will think you’re from the Company and they will be nervous.”

“I feared as much,” Amelia sighed and lowered her face, drawing the scarf back over her head to conceal her feline features. “Lead on, Mr Chaupi.”

\----------------------------

Chaupi led the way down a stony path that led through the village towards the mill. At the first of the houses, they saw a handful of children playing on the balcony, watched over by a couple of adults. One was sweeping the deck with a broom but looked up as Amelia and Chaupi approached.

“ _Qatu Chaupi_?” The man looked surprised, but clearly recognised Chaupi at once.

Chaupi smiled and raised a hand. “Husayi! Yes, it’s me! But I must find my parents.”

The man pointed towards the mill. “Your father is there. But wait. Hilara is here.”

Amelia saw him dart inside the house. “Hilara?”

“My mother,” said Chaupi. 

Husayi returned to the balcony with another Capram in tow. A female, albeit dressed in trousers and vest, looked down with wide blue eyes. She wore a leather sash across her upper body that held a short quarterstaff, its ends shod with metal. Still staring, she slowly descended the stairs from the balcony.

“Chaupi?”

“Mother,” Chaupi’s voice was emotional. “It’s me. I’m back.”

“My child.” Hilara put her arms around Chaupi and held him close. Chaupi reciprocated the gesture, eyes blurring with tears until he blinked them away. Amelia averted her eyes self-consciously as the two shared an exchange in Capram that Chaupi took it upon himself to end.

“Please, mother. We must speak in offworld for my friend’s sake.”

“Your friend? Pardon me, old one. I do not know you.” Hilara turned to Amelia. “You are new to Quranaq?”

“There is more to her than you think, mother,” said Chaupi. “We should find father.”

Hilara nodded. “Yauri is at the mill. And he will be pleased to see you. But I do not understand.”

“All will become clear,” Chaupi promised. “And I will tell you what has happened to me.”

Hilara nodded again. “As you say...come with me.”

\----------------------------

The interior of an Orean longhouse was more complex than Amelia had expected. The high roof was supported by a complex structure of timbers which were themselves the supports for numerous platforms and spaces. There were some internal partitions which seemed to serve to distinguish functional areas of the house from each other rather than to denote individual ownership. Even so, a word from Yauri had cleared out those villagers in the house nearest the mill and Amelia and the three Capra took up seats around a cooking pit. Yauri was a middle-aged male with brown and grey fur and Amelia saw the family resemblance in his face even if Chaupi had inherited his own colours from his mother. But where Chaupi still carried himself with confidence and poise, Yauri was, despite his evident authority in the village, a man almost physically bowed down by the weight on his mind, an impression strengthened by his use of a walking stick. Hilara sat cross-legged by his side, her quarterstaff across her knees. She had gripped it briefly when Amelia had cast off her disguise, but appeared to have taken her son’s word that there was no reason to be afraid of the offworlder in their midst. Yauri had looked nervous as well, and Amelia remembered the guard’s offhand remark about a visit being paid to the mill that day. After the initial surprise, however, the parents had listened and apparently accepted their son’s extraordinary tale outlining what he had been doing in the years of his absence.

“I can only apologise for how long I was away,” Chaupi finished. “But I hope the manner of my returning justifies it. I have been to see Inaya. I truly believe this is our best chance to be rid of the NHC. Possibly also our last chance.”

“This is of course what we all hope for,” said Hilara. 

“And I think we can do it if we can prove that the Company is lying about what they’re doing here,” said Amelia. “The NHC has gone to great lengths to make it look as if everything’s all right, but I already know that’s not true. An informant inside the NHC has provided us with proof that the Company knows it too. But I still need first-hand evidence. And testimony, from people like you - or others in this village - who aren’t as obviously connected to the resistance as Chaupi is.”

“His word would not be enough?”

Amelia shook her head. “My captain - and more importantly, the inspector we have to convince - would question his _ina_ because of his relationship with the resistance.”

“Ah, I see my son has been teaching you,” Yauri smiled weakly.

“He’s been quite the education,” Amelia grinned at Chaupi. 

“At length, doubtless,” Hilara chuckled. “But you have come to the right place. This village is not the only one to feel the Company’s reign, of course, but perhaps it will be worth it if we can serve as your example.”

“I hope so, ma’am,” said Amelia. “If I may, sir, Chaupi explained some of how the mill came to be here, but I’d be interested in the full story.”

“Ah. Yes.” Yauri sighed. “Of course. No doubt you know how the Company has been doing things here. They trade the Hirca’s food for our textiles, but they demand we sell them much, many more than we would normally make, and if we do not deliver, the Hirca punish us by withholding the food. So the only way to make enough was to agree to let them build the mill here. It is filled with machines that work fast, but it does not produce things well. The quality is bad. But the Company does not care.” Amelia detected the tone of a craftsman’s disapproval in his voice.

“But whatever we produce, it is not enough. Always they will find a reason not to send us the food in exchange for our goods.” Yauri sighed again. “So I seek to...manage their expectations. If they think that the mill cannot produce so much, they cannot demand so much. There are ways to make the machines slow. Ways to alter the weave so it takes longer. These things I know.”

“That sounds like an awful risk, sir,” said Amelia. “Don’t they at least suspect you?”

“They suspect, yes, probably.” Yauri nodded. “When orders are not met, they blame me. They accuse me. Sometimes they even have beaten me. This is why I use this now.” He patted his stick. 

Amelia glanced at Chaupi, whose face was a mask of controlled fury. “I recognise their methods, sir.”

Yauri shrugged. “It is better for the village that they blame me and not the workers or all our other people. Otherwise they would do it to everyone.”

“Then we should warn you, father,” said Chaupi. “The guards on the road said that the Company was coming here to speak to you.”

Yauri looked resigned. “Yes. I thought as much. They had placed a sudden, special order for a large number of _nays_.”

Amelia looked up with interest and she reached for her bag, producing the _nay_ she had been given at the welcoming ceremony. “These, sir?”

There was a flicker of amusement in Yauri’s tired eyes. “Ah, yes. So it was you they were made for. I had wondered what they were for. I suppose I should apologise for providing you with such bad goods!”

Amelia grinned. “Chaupi explained everything that was wrong with it and that it must have been done deliberately. But I don’t think it’s me who needs your explanation. I suspect that’s what the Company is coming to see you about.”

“I should have known they would work it out eventually,” Yauri shook his head. “One of the Hirca must have told them.”

“I hope it won’t cost you, sir,” said Amelia.

“Not as much as some other things have,” Yauri grimaced for a moment. Hilara took his hand and held it for a moment. 

“This will all end one day, father,” said Chaupi firmly. 

There was a commotion outside that brought them all to their feet - stamping boots, shouted orders - and a villager put their head around the partition, a nervous look on his face a fraction of a second after Amelia had thrown her hood back over her head. 

“Elder Yauri? There is someone here to see you.”

Yauri nodded and cast a sad glance at Chaupi.

“One day. But not yet today…”

\----------------------------

The village was gathering outside the longhouse, but was being held at bay by a semicircle of yellow-coated Hircan soldiers, rifles in hand. In the center of the circle, at the foot of the longhouse steps, a short, rotund man was waiting accompanied by the burliest of the guards. He wore civilian attire, an oily grey suit, and a tousled wig on his head. He looked up at Yauri with false cheer.

“Ah, Elder Yauri! So you are here. I thought I’d lost you when you weren’t at the mill.”

“Overseer Berke. I apologise. I stepped out for a moment.” 

“Of course. No apology necessary for that. This is, after all, your home.” Berke smiled like a shark as he continued. “But you might need to tell me something about these.”

Amelia and Chaupi were hidden inside the longhouse, on a storage platform above the front door. A gap in the wall gave them an excellent view of the scene as Berke drew a piece of colourful cloth out of his pocket and waved it. Even from a distance, Amelia recognised it as a duplicate of the _nay_ she had brought with her.

“The special order? Yes, I delivered it on time.” Yauri walked down the stairs, limping on his stick far more heavily that Amelia had seen him walk up them. 

“Not quite the point! I ordered you to produce _nays_. These are many things, Yauri, but they are not _nays_. You might as well have sent me rags.”

“I do not know what you mean-”

“Yes, you do. I know about the decorations you put on them. We heard from one of our Hircan friends in Port Machonochie.” Berke shook his head. “It’s fortunate for you that the visitors care even less about your primitive superstitions than we do otherwise your crime might have been spotted sooner.” He dropped the _nay_ into the dirt of the path. “Did you think you’d get away with it?”

Hilara stepped forward and rapped the metal end of her staff on a stone. “Enough! If a crime has been committed, then as an enforcer it is my business, not the Company’s.”

“This is Company business, enforcer. You’ve no authority in it.” Berke’s affable air momentarily gave way to steel before he turned back to Yauri. “Now, then, Elder. What was it you were trying to do? Humiliate the Company in front of our guests? Send a message to someone?”

“I would never dare cross the Company, sir!” Yauri protested. “And who would I be sending a message to?”

Berke shrugged. “You tell me. Some troublemaker you know? I hear your son hasn’t been seen for a while.”

Amelia felt Chaupi tense next to her and she put a calming hand on his shoulder. “Easy, Mr Chaupi…”

“My son? He has been dead for years. And even if he were alive by some miracle, he could not have spent all that time in Port Machonochie.” Yauri was putting on a good display of disbelief.

“Then to someone else, perhaps? Or maybe it was one of your workers, and you didn’t spot the sabotage? Was that sloppiness on your part, Yauri, or were you in on it too? You people have your ways.” Berke stepped forward until he was toe to toe with the taller Capram. “You know what would happen if it turns out that you’ve been up to something?”

Amelia saw him make a small gesture at waist height. The Hircan soldier next to him struck out, knocking Yauri’s stick from his hands, and swinging the stock of his rifle into his leg. Yauri cried out and collapsed to his knees, suddenly reversing the height difference between himself and Berke, who now loomed over him.

“You want to be more careful, Yauri,” Berke said. “I’m heading back to Port Machonochie in a few days and my replacement out here might not be as...understanding of your problems as I’ve been. If you’re lucky, I’ll put in a good word for you. But if you’re unlucky…”

“I...I understand, sir,” Yauri panted. “There will be no more trouble. I assure you.”

Berke leaned down and patted the older Capram on the head. “See that there isn’t.”

“If I was down there-” Chaupi snarled, watching his father’s subjugation and his mother’s powerlessness.

“It’s for the best that you aren’t,” Amelia hissed. “Otherwise this mission’d already be over.”

“And let that be a lesson to all of you!” Berke shouted, turning away from Yauri. “No tricks! No games! Remember that you can - and will - _all_ be made to pay! Work hard, and you will be looked after! Know your places! And know who’s in charge here.”

He looked around the silent villagers for a moment before gesturing to his guards and walking off. The crowd parted obediently to let him go, and Hilara went to her husband’s side to help him to his feet. Amelia nodded to Chaupi and they descended from their platform. By the time they made it outside, Yauri and Hilara were ascending the stairs again. Chaupi’s body language was alternating between that of a child frightened for his parents and an adult intent on avenging them. Hilara saw the conflict on his face and raised a hand.

“Calm yourself, my son. By recent standards, that was nothing to fear.”

“I am all right,” Yauri nodded. “It did not hurt much. And the village understands.”

“They may understand,” said Chaupi. “But I do not forgive.”

“Then do your work,” said Yauri, taking his arm. “What you came here to do.”

“Who was that man?” asked Amelia nodding in the direction of Berke’s departure.

“Berke? He is the Company’s Overseer for this district. In charge of all their business here. I take orders from him, deliver to him.” Yauri shrugged. “Despite appearances, he is not that bad. Better than the one before him. He is lazy. He wants no trouble. He is making himself rich by not sending everything he orders to Port Machonochie with the rest, so he does not want to draw attention to himself. But when I am slow, or make bad work, his superiors get angry with him, so he becomes angry with me.” 

“Why did you take the risk of making the fake _nays_ , father?” asked Chaupi. “What purpose did that serve?”

Yauri shrugged. “Revenge? A joke? Perhaps Inaya's spirit moved me. The Company has made life harder than usual recently. There is less food. More demands. A Wilian village was burned when a timber delivery was found to be rotten, but the Company had demanded that the timber be shipped before it could be treated. Some of the refugees came here. My usual caution may have been...less than it normally is.”

“You should take more care, father,” said Chaupi. “What would the village do without you?”

“I know, I know. You are right. And your mother has said it often enough also.” Yauri nodded to Hilara, who took his arm protectively. “But...sometimes I feel that protecting this place is not enough. That there must be action, not just defense.”

“That time has come, father,” Chaupi said.

“But there’s no need for you to risk yourself further like that,” said Amelia. “You said you had refugees here. I’d like to speak to them, if I can. Their stories could be useful.”

Hilara shook her head. “They left a few days ago to reach another Wilia village to the west.”

“Blast. I don’t think we’ll have time to track them down, then.” Amelia shook her head. “But we should still collect your stories. And I’d like to see the mill, too, sir.”

“Of course. Follow me.” Yauri turned and began walking down the steps again. The crowd has long since dispersed, but Amelia and Chaupi hung back for a moment.

“I’m sorry this doesn’t seem to have been a happy homecoming for you, Mr Chaupi,” Amelia murmured quietly. “But I assume I can still count on your being focused on the task at hand?”

Chaupi nodded grimly. “Yes, ma’am. I had not expected it to be happy. Poor expectations are seldom disappointed here. But to find it this bad…”

Amelia gave him a sympathetic look. “Then let’s make sure we do our jobs right,” she said.


	7. Chapter 7

They left Quranaq after a few days, the farewells of Chaupi’s family and friends heartfelt and optimistic, though Amelia was troubled by the tales they’d heard of arbitrary punishments, impossible workloads and conditions that amounted, in truth, to little more than the slavery which the Empire had banned decades ago. She had expected them to return to Nasisa but, to Amelia’s surprise, rather than walk back along the road and through the forest to where the shared hideout had been, Chaupi led the way uphill after briefly speaking to Hilara by the stone which marked the village’s boundary. After several hours of hard going, they had long since left the forest behind and were now even climbing beyond the realm of tough, thick grasses and twisted bushes above the treeline. The air was noticeably thinner and, despite the coming of spring, distinctly colder up here, though it didn’t seem to be bothering Chaupi. Amelia paused to catch her breath, taking a moment to look over her shoulder and back down into the green heart of the valley.

“Ma’am? Are you all right?” Chaupi paused and looked back at her. Amelia nodded and pulled her pack tighter onto her shoulders.

“Yes, Mr Chaupi. Just taking a moment. How much further is it?”

“Perhaps two hours? We will be there by sunset.” Chaupi smiled encouragingly.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Amelia started uphill again. “If I wanted to walk everywhere, I wouldn’t have joined the Navy…”

Chaupi laughed. “It will be worth it, ma’am. I am sure of it.”

“I just don’t understand why we’re coming all the way up here,” said Amelia. 

“But Nasisa explained? The leaders of the other resistance factions agreed to meet-”

“Yes, I understood that part,” Amelia waved a hand. “But couldn’t we have met at the hideout?”

“It would have been difficult,” said Chaupi. “Giving directions to a place most do not know exist would have been hard. And the fewer people who know of the hideout, the safer it is. Whereas the cave we are going to, everyone knows already, and is far enough away that the Company does not bother to watch it.”

“How is it so famous, then?”

“It is the birthplace of Inaya herself,” Chaupi paused and grinned. “Of course, it is one of _many_ caves said to be the birthplace of Inaya. But in a way, it does not matter which is true.”

“This is another _quay_ and _ina_ thing, I assume?” Amelia grinned back as she caught up with him. He chuckled and nodded.

“Indeed so, ma’am. Inaya is everywhere and nowhere.”

“I just may be starting to get the hang of this,” Amelia shook her head. “But the most important question is what we’ll do when we get there. Do you think that the plan we discussed will work?”

“I hope it would, ma’am. But as for whether the others will accept it…” Chaupi shrugged. “Nasisa probably will. But I do not know who else will be there. Many resistance groups have said they will attend, and they may not all agree…”

“I wouldn’t entirely blame them,” said Amelia. “I can barely believe it myself - wait, what’s that?”

She stopped and went into a crouch, pointing uphill and off to the right where a rocky spur rose from the slope. Chaupi turned to look and saw two figures emerging from behind it. They were clad in furs and carried longbows almost as long as Amelia was tall. They were watching carefully.

“Sabiran hunters,” said Chaupi. “There are predators in the higher reaches. They prey on the lami herds that live below, so the Sabira hunt them.”

“So are these friends?” Amelia didn’t take her eyes off them. They hadn’t so much as nocked an arrow, but they hadn’t put aside their bows either.

“I think so. Or they would have shot at us by now.” Chaupi raised his hand and stepped forward, calling out something in Capram. Amelia picked up the word _Inaya_ and saw the hunters seemingly relax. They jumped down from the spur and came towards them extending their hands in a greeting. To Amelia’s surprise, they didn’t seem at all curious to see her.

“You must be the two Inaya told us to watch for,” said one, speaking in gruff, accented Standard. “She said you would be coming. I am Endali of the Sabira.”

“Amelia of the Royal Navy,” said Amelia. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

Endali shrugged. He was a big, powerfully-built specimen with a series of parallel ridges of fur across his face that indicated the presence of scars beneath. 

“There have been others. Many have come. They are interested to see you. The Imperial who wishes to help.”

“Then I hope I don’t disappoint them,” said Amelia. “And I trust there’s no sign of the Company?”

“Not here,” said Endali. “Some ships overhead. But still far away.”

“Good.” Amelia nodded. “Well, then, Mr Chaupi, shall we continue?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Chaupi looked at Endali. “Can you pass word to Inaya that we are here?”

Endali produced a horn from his belt and blew a long call that seemed to bounce off the rocks and up the slope. “She will know.”

“Thank you.” Amelia turned to follow Chaupi as they set off uphill once again. She glanced over her shoulders, expecting to see the hunters still watching them, but they had already vanished into the landscape. 

“Friendly types,” she remarked.

“They are not always so sociable,” said Chaupi. “They spend too long up in the heights, all surrounded by white snow.”

“Yes, I suppose that would breed a certain type of person,” said Amelia. “Or perhaps it takes a certain type of person to choose that life?”

Chaupi shrugged. “Either and both. But let’s go. Nasisa will be waiting for us now.”

Amelia grinned. “Looking forward to seeing her again, Mr Chaupi?”

“Of course.” Chaupi gave an unusually shy smile and looked away. “And I do not want to let her down.”

“I’m sure you won’t.” Amelia looked at him sympathetically. “Besides, if the plan doesn’t work, you can blame me.”

“If the plan doesn’t work, we’ll probably be dead,” Chaupi pointed out.

“That’s how these things tend to go.” Amelia agreed. “But you’re right. All ahead. Let’s not keep her waiting.”

\----------------------------

The entrance was under a rocky ledge that would have kept it free of snow except in the heaviest falls, and which also cast a shadow over the interior. The rocky walls around the entrance was carved and sculpted and the shelter had preserved what was clearly ancient work. Amelia recognised some of the iconography from Chaupi’s _nay_ , but there was no time to indulge in closer study as Nasisa was waiting for them with a torch in her hand and a businesslike air that briefly melted when she smiled at the sight of Chaupi.

“So you made it. I was worried you had forgotten the way.”

“Never,” grinned Chaupi. “Is everything ready?”

Nasisa nodded. “Yes. Many have come. More than I have ever seen. You are quite the subject of interest, Amelia.”

“Positive, one hopes,” said Amelia.

“Mostly.” Nasisa’s smile was not cynical, but nor was it entirely reassuring. “But come. Before you enter the deep cave, you must visit the shrine to pay your respects to Inaya.”

“Ah, yes.” Chaupi smiled. “It has been too long for me.”

“I am sure Inaya could hear you wherever you were,” said Nasisa. “Everyone else probably could.”

“Thank you,” Chaupi grinned. Nasisa rolled her eyes and led them through the entrance. The cave was deeper than it appeared on the outside. They had to climb down a ladder built of linen ropes and carved wooden planks to a lower chamber where a well-worn path led deeper and further down into the mountain. But Nasisa pointed them off to one side, where they stepped into a small, circular chamber with a ceiling so high that it rose beyond the reach of the torchlight. Natural crystals sprouted from the walls, ceilings, and floor of the cave caught and scattered the torchlight so that the space looked like a field of stars. Ropes hung down from the unreachable darkness, each bearing a small wicker basket in which sat an item - a bundled garment, a tool, a piece of food, a carved pebble - and other such baskets sat scattered around the perimeter at the base of the carved walls, where the _nay_ designs repeated in still greater detail. The center of the chamber sloped down into a smooth depression, indicating that thousands of feet had walked in and stood there over the centuries.   
“This is Inaya’s shrine,” said Chaupi, his voice echoing off the stone. “All visitors must leave something here out of respect. I see that the leaders of the resistance have all made their offerings.”

Nasisa nodded. “As have I. But now it is your turns.”

“Mr Chaupi? Did we bring anything for this?” Amelia frowned. “I mean no disrespect, Nasisa. I just wasn’t aware of this requirement.”

“The offering of a physical item is not important,” said Chaupi. “It only is a physical representation of the offering of the soul, but not required.” He continued at Amelia’s questioning look. “Story keepers hold and spread the stories of Capram life, but Inaya is their spark. She is the one to move us to act and to feel and to yearn. Without that spark, we’d be nothing more than animals like the lami. So the most precious offering we can give to her is the evidence of her spark. Our story.”

The felinid’s brows furrowed. “I wish you told me of this sooner, Mr. Chaupi, so I could have had time to prepare one worthy to give.”

“That was the reason I refrained. The best offering is one given spontaneously and without filter. Without the time to embellish or otherwise edit a story leaves it in its purest and raw form. This is the tale that comes straight from the soul, reflecting what you truly need to tell rather than simply what you want someone to hear. The reward for an offering to Inaya is self-clarity. That is why we must making an offering before venturing further.”

He stepped into the middle of the chamber and looked up at the largest of the carvings in the wall, which displayed a female figure both like and unlike a Capram. He began with a gesture that Amelia had seen him make before he tells a story. It looked like one used to address a crowd with both hands while bowing low, making sure to keep the chin upwards rather than face the horns outward. Chaupi then straightened and began speaking in Capram. Amelia would have liked to know what he was saying, but knew that the story was for Inaya’s sake, not her own. She waited in silence until the Capram finished. It wasn’t the longest story she’d heard him tell, but it made her nervous all the same. 

“What did you say?” she asked when he rejoined her and Nasisa.

He shrugged. “Just about how in my absence, I longed to return to my heart: my home, my people, and-” there was a moment’s hesitation when Amelia noted a quick side glance towards Nasisa before continuing. “And unfinished business to make things right. For us. For everyone.”

“And now you, Amelia,” said Nasisa.

Amelia hesitated. “I don’t speak Capram.”

“You don’t need to,” said Chaupi. “The best stories cross all boundaries. Even language. Go on, ma’am. She is listening.”

Amelia took a deep breath and stepped forward into the center of the chamber. As Chaupi had done, she looked up at the carving on the wall and made the same bowing gesture. But when she straightened, she was silent. She was aware of Chaupi and Nasisa’s eyes on her, and she had initially told herself to treat this as a kind of test of her belief in the Capram cause and thus a purely practical exercise, but it suddenly struck her that there was something else - as if there was a fourth person in the room, waiting with kindly and infinite patience and curiosity to hear whatever she had come to say. She thought about what to tell it - spontaneous storytelling had played no part in her upbringing, where stories came from the pages of books to which they were returned immediately afterwards. But she found herself speaking before she knew it.

“I fell in love once.”

Blinking in surprise, she cleared her throat and kept speaking. “I fell in love. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t looking for it, or even wanting it. It came from a clear blue sky and in the midst of a bloody war and, for a few, blessed months, it gave me something to fight for that went beyond my sense of duty. 

“Her name was Jane Porter. She was a colonist whose town I was sent to save. I failed - she and her father and the few others who survived had to be evacuated - but she never blamed me.

“The months we had together were the happiest of my life. We had to keep our love a secret, but she never complained. We were together through battles and blood and fire. She was a gentle soul, but she was as brave as anyone I’ve ever seen.”

Amelia closed her eyes and saw for a moment the smiling face she had left behind forever. A surge of memories came from deep inside and filled her mind with a whirlwind of feelings that she struggled to contain before continuing.

“But then the war ended, and so did our time together. She had only been allowed to stay on my ship because we couldn’t spare the time to leave her anywhere that wasn’t too dangerous. We put into a port for repairs and, when it was over, we sailed away and left her behind. It was always going to happen and we always knew it, even in our most joyful times together. But that didn’t make it any easier when the moment came.   
“If only we had grown to hate each other, perhaps it would have been easy, or even welcome. But we had grown only closer, and in leaving her behind I left a part of myself. That part of my heart which only she could have discovered and which belongs to her even now. Is it strange that, while I saw friends and colleagues killed in that war, it’s one who still lives who haunts my mind and my dreams?”

Amelia stopped to draw breath and was startled to find that there were genuine tears running down her face. But she didn’t wipe them away, sensing that this was part of the process, and feeling that it was perhaps part of her own healing process.

“My duty continues. And I am proud to serve. The Empire is not perfect - as your people have learned at great cost - but it’s the best we have, and even at its worst the Empire can always better itself. My comrades-in-arms and I are the sword and shield for billions of people. We are why they can live without fear of suffering the fate that has fallen on this world, or worse. But I find myself needing a purpose greater even than that. Is duty all that will be left to me in the years to come? Is that enough to sustain a soul? I pray not - on both counts. And perhaps it’s partly that which has led me into your presence. The belief that there’s more than duty. That there can also be justice. Hope. A future worth living for its own sake.”

She bowed her head and stood in silence as she came to terms with the feelings that had poured forth unbidden. No wonder the Capram believed so deeply in the power of story…

“Amelia?” Chaupi’s gentle voice interrupted her reverie as he touched a hand to her arm. Amelia blinked and only now moved to brush away the last of her tears as she tried to recover some of her poise.

“Yes, Mr Chaupi. Sorry about that.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. You were moved by Inaya’s spirit, as is meant to happen. Perhaps some of her gift resides in you, too.” He smiled. 

“Perhaps so.” Amelia looked past him to Nasisa. “But now I suppose we should move on? I wouldn’t want to keep your allies waiting.”

Nasisa nodded and gestured to the doorway. “They would understand waiting for this. But yes. If Inaya is done with you, we shall go.”

“I think she is,” Amelia stepped out of the sacred space. Chaupi followed her a few paces behind.

“On the contrary,” he murmured to himself. “I think she may have only just begun…”

\----------------------------

This chamber was deeper in the mountain, and entirely devoid of the ornamentation of the shrine. It was a simple, functional space, one side of which was comprised of a rockfall. It was warmly lit by firelight, but the little smoke the Capram torches gave off was drawn away by a slow, steady current of air from somewhere even further inside the earth. There were nearly forty people packed into the space, many of them making use of the tiered seating provided by the fallen slabs of grey rock - Capram of every adult age, size, shape and mode of dress, all watching Amelia as she entered. The crowd stood aside to let her in, but she could sense the skepticism of the gathering and was glad of the presence of Chaupi and Nasisa, the latter of whom stepped forward and raised her hand for silence. 

“We are gathered here from different clans, but with one purpose. Sabira, Orea, Wilia, Hirca - all are represented here. And we have among us now two people whose presence is the cause of this meeting. Some of you may already know Chaupi of Quranaq, who was taken from us but is now returned. But none of you will know Amelia the offworlder. She brings us a message from the Empire, and what may be our best chance to free ourselves from the New Horizons Company.” Nasisa nodded to Amelia. “She will explain.”

“Thank you.” Amelia raised her voice. “I am an officer of the Royal Navy. Some of you probably know that my ship has arrived in Port Machonochie recently. The purpose of our visit is not to do business with the Company or to take more of your lands and goods. We carried with us...someone you may think of as one of your elder enforcers. An Imperial inspector. Someone who has come to see that the Company is doing business here fairly and legally. But, right now, they are seeing and hearing only that story which the Company is telling them, which has been presented as the _quay_. They don’t know _your_ stories, your _inas_.”

Amelia sensed a marginal thawing of the atmosphere and caught an approving grin from Chaupi at her use of the Capram terms. She took a breath and continued.

“With Chaupi’s help, I’ve been able to gather evidence for the inspector. But I will need all of your help to put it before them so they can judge it.”

There was a heavy silence, so thick with judgement that it was almost tangible.

“ _That_ is what we came to hear?” said Endali heavily, turning to Nasisa. “ _That_ is why you called us from our homes? Why you had us run the risk of being here?”

“The Company does not watch this place,” said Nasisa. “And you were all sworn to secrecy. And if any of us were followed, I would like to think we had the sense to turn back.”

“I understand the need for secrecy,” said the big Sabiran ominously. “What I do not understand is why our enemy is here.”

Amelia bridled, but knew to let Chaupi speak for her. He did not hesitate to do so.

“As I told you, Endali, Amelia is not with the Company. She can be trusted-”

“I did not mean her, Chaupi,” Endali raised a hand. “You have spoken for her and a story keeper’s word is enough. I was referring to the Hircan.” He gestured across the circle to a smaller Capram dressed in the kind of mismatch of Imperial and Capram clothing Amelia had seen in Port Machonochie.

The Hircan narrowed his eyes. “I am no spy, if that is what you mean, Endali. You think my people have not suffered?”

“It is your elders who brought the Company to our lands, Tolmai,” said Endali bluntly. 

“They do not speak with one voice!” Tolmai snapped. “We are under the Company’s yoke as much as you are! They tell us what to grow and what we grow, they take. There is hunger in our villages as well. And it will get worse. The winter stores are empty and now, rather than letting us grow food in spring, they are forcing us to plant more and more crops that cannot be eaten but which they can sell offworld!”

“You mean there’s a prospect of famine?” said Amelia.

“Yes. Worse than ever before. The NHC will withhold food from villages and communities as punishment or to break their will to resist, but now there will not be enough even if they give it all back to us.” Tolmai looked grim. “This is part of why I am here. To warn you all. Something must be done before this comes to pass.”

This news sent murmurs throughout the chamber until Nasisa raised her hand to command order once more.

“I believe we are all of the same mind here,” she said sternly. “And above all else, we are all Capram. The divisions of the past must not be allowed to harm our efforts for the future. If we are to take advantage of the opportunity Amelia presents, we must be as one.”

Amelia nodded thanks to her, appreciating the firmness of her leadership - it wasn’t the cultivated type learned in an academy but rather a natural expression of her will. Even amongst the officer ranks of the Royal Navy, Amelia had known only a few people with that gift.

“So tell us, Amelia,” Nasisa went on, after satisfying herself that she had quelled the dispute. “What is it you would seek from us? What would you have us do?”

Amelia glanced at Chaupi, who took the cue and stepped forward to join her.

“We must march on Port Machonochie,” he said. “All of us.”

“March on the port?” Endali looked skeptical. “What would that prove?”

“The Company is justifying its presence here by claiming that you’ve consented to it,” said Amelia. “As far as the inspector knows, that’s true. But if you all go to Port Machonochie, that will show that you do _not_ consent.”

“If we all go to Port Machonochie,” said a Wilian on the other side of the room, “we will all be killed.”

Amelia took a deep breath. “I won’t lie to you and say that this isn’t without risk. It means taking a chance. But I do not think that it’ll come to that. The Company wouldn’t dare commit a massacre where the inspector can see it. And if they try, I firmly believe that my Captain would intervene and stop them.”

“Even if that’s so,” said Endali, “how are we all to get there? If the Company finds that so many Capram are moving, they will block the roads. They will make sure nobody reaches the city.”

“I know. But there’s another way in.” Amelia smiled. “The railroad. Chaupi and I rode it to get here. One train could carry hundreds of people. And you’ll have supporters in Port Machonochie who would join you once you’re there.”

“The trains run every few days,” said Nasisa thoughtfully, a spark of approval in her eyes. 

“And they have only a few people on board,” said Amelia. “All you’d have to do is block the track, deal with the Company staff in the guard van at the back and in the locomotive at the front. And then you’ve got a straight run all the way to Port Machonochie. You’ll be in the heart of the city before the NHC even know you’re there.”

“It could be done,” Nasisa nodded. “But what happens when we arrive there?”

“If all goes well,” said Amelia, “you call the Capram in Port Machonochie to join you, then march on the Company’s settlement. That’ll get their attention, and that of my ship. That’ll be the most dangerous time for you. If the Company tries to force you back, that’s when it’ll happen. You may take losses. But if not - or if you hold firm - the inspector will see what’s happening. He’ll know the Company has been lying to him. And then you’ll get to put your side of the story.”

“And what will your judge do then?” asked Endali.

“It depends on whether he believes you,” admitted Amelia. “If he does, he can order the Company to do things differently. Or even, I hope, to leave you in peace.”

“So you do not know?”

“We can only try,” said Chaupi. “I know it must seem like asking a lot of you with little guarantee of results. But I have been amongst the offworlders for years now. I have seen their ways. Their law is different, but there are those who uphold it.”

“You are asking us to place our faith in strangers,” said the Wilian. “In offworlders. When they have brought only suffering to us before.”

“Different offworlders,” Chaupi insisted. “Ones I know. I would not have come to you if I did not trust them.”

“And we must face facts,” said Nasisa. “We have been waging our own struggles against the Company for many years. We have waged it in our own ways, but we have all paid a common price. And it has not worked. The Company is still here, and every year it drains us more. It is time we were bold. It is no longer enough that we defend our corners. We must step forward. Step forward and be counted.”

“So you believe in this plan?” said the Wilian.

“Yes, Lonarec. I do. How better for us to fight back than with our stories, as Inaya gave us? And who better to tell those stories than a story keeper like Chaupi?” Nasisa gestured to Chaupi, who smiled modestly before he replied.

“You.”

Even Nasisa seemed to have been caught off-guard. “Me?”

“You,” nodded Chaupi. “Story keeper that I am, I have been away too long. And it would be better if the story comes from someone who has been here. I think that person should be you.”

“I…” Nasisa seemed to recover her poise. “I would need the consent of all.”

“You have mine,” said Tolmai.

“And mine,” Lonarec nodded. “It is your idea. It is right that you be the one to do it.”

Endali sighed. “If it is the will of the gathering, then I will consent also.”

Amelia smiled to herself as the resistance leaders gave their consent one by one. Some asked questions, some evidently still had their doubts, but Chaupi’s demonstration of faith in Nasisa seemed to carry the day. The vote was carried and Nasisa turned to Amelia with a smile.

“It seems we have a plan, Amelia.”

“We do.” Amelia smiled back. “How long will it take your people to be ready to put it into effect?”

“A few days to gather their followers,” said Nasisa. “It would be faster if we gather them by the railroad track at the place we plan the ambush. Then it will only be a matter of waiting.”

“Hopefully not too long,” Amelia glanced at Chaupi. “My ship isn’t staying here forever.”

“The train’s the fastest way back, ma’am,” pointed out Chaupi.

“Then this plan works for us both,” Nasisa grinned. “Let us get to work.”

Amelia saw her turn back to the Capram and launch into a detailed discussion in her native tongue. She looked over to Chaupi, whose eyes were shining as he watched her.

“Mr Chaupi?”

He blinked off a reverie and looked up at Amelia, who grinned. “Sorry, ma’am. But it feels like...hope. More than I have felt in years. This plan...it could work.”

Amelia smiled. “Then you’d better go and help her, hadn’t you?”

\----------------------------

Much later, Chaupi stepped out onto the top of the rocky outcrop atop the cave entrance and took a deep breath of the clean, clear air. The various resistance leaders had left, making their separate ways back to their people aside from the few who remained inside to work with Amelia on the details of the ambush to be mounted on the Company train. It was therefore surprising when a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned to see Nasisa standing on the edge of the outcrop, gazing out over the valley. He padded over to her side, joining her in admiring the view. The sky was not yet totally dark, but clusters of light still shone on the valley floor and sides to mark the location of villages and the network of rivers were silver and gold in the twilight. He turned to Nasisa and smiled to see the lights reflected in her eyes.

“I have missed this sight,” he said.

“I am sure you have,” Nasisa replied. “There cannot be anywhere else in the galaxy like this.”

“I didn’t mean just the valley,” Chaupi grinned. Nasisa turned to see him looking at her and rolled her eyes.

“The years haven’t changed you, Chaupi.”

“Oh, they have. In many ways. But, I hope, mostly for the better.”

Nasisa smiled. “It seems well so far.”

Chaupi bowed his head in thanks and returned to the vista. “I remember when we were much younger and would come here to admire the view.”

“That was before the Company came,” said Nasisa. “A long time ago. It feels like more than a lifetime.”

Chaupi nodded. “Yes. But it is not a lifetime. Just a night passing before a dawn, or a winter before a spring.”

“I hope so.” Nasisa sighed. “There is much to do.”

“But it will be done. Everyone will play their part.” Chaupi touched a hand to her arm. “Especially you.”

Nasisa nodded, but her face wasn’t confident. “I will have no choice. The gathering chose me. But it is not a role I’m comfortable with. Perhaps I have spent so long in the shadows that the idea of stepping into the light like this sits ill with me.”

“You gathered the resistance,” said Chaupi. “You led the meeting.”

“Because there was nobody else,” Nasisa said. “But this? Putting our story to the Imperials? I am not like you, Chaupi. I never was. If the Company had not come, I would still be in my village, living a quiet life as the carer and healer I was supposed to be.”

“Sometimes stories take unexpected turns,” said Chaupi. “Every Capram’s have.”

“Yes, of course. But telling them was always your gift, not mine.” Nasisa looked pointedly at Chaupi.

“You underestimate yourself,” said Chaupi reassuringly. 

“How do you do it?” Nasisa met his eyes. “Can it be taught?”

“Of course,” Chaupi nodded. “There is no secret, and I am not special.”

“And now you underestimate yourself,” Nasisa gave him a small smile. Chaupi blushed and laughed nervously.

“Ahah...well...the most important thing to remember is that you are merely a vessel for the story. You are its servant as much as its creator. The story is what matters. You let it speak through you. And you know it. You’ve lived it. And I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here.”

Nasisa shook her head. “I sent you into the predator’s jaws. I told myself that you were dead so I did not have to think about what had happened to you. And in the meantime, you were cast into a strange world full of war. I would not say that I had it worse, and you certainly should not be apologising to me. None of this would be happening if it was not because of you.”

“This is not about me,” said Chaupi urgently. “This is about you, and how you will carry our story and use it to free our people. The only thing you need to think or know about me is that-” he paused and swallowed to wet a suddenly-dry throat as he took her hand gently. “Is that I’m here for you. Now and always.” 

Nasisa looked up into his eyes. They had indeed changed in some ways since he had been away. There were new shadows that she hadn’t seen before, and while the childlike enthusiasm was still there it was now tempered by a layer of hard-won maturity. But behind all that, there was still the warmth and care that she had known and counted on and stopped herself from ever thinking about again until he had come back into her life.

“Always…” she said quietly. “Always is a long time.”

“It won’t seem like it.” Chaupi squeezed her hand. “Not compared to the years spent apart from you. For me, anyway.”

“Every year here has been a lifetime of troubles,” said Nasisa. “But since you’ve been back...it feels like only moments.”

Chaupi smiled hopefully. “So...if I stay...”

Nasisa smiled back and nodded. Chaupi’s grin broadened. 

“I always knew it.”

Nasisa laughed and rolled her eyes. “Tell me, did they let you get away with acting like that in the Imperial Navy?”

“Of course not,” said Chaupi. “So I saved it all for you.”

Nasisa scoffed, but not without a playful glint in her eye. “Forgive me if I don’t count it as an honour.”

“You should take that attitude to the meeting with the Imperials,” said Chaupi. “They’ll probably put you in charge of the planet.”

“Inaya save us all,” Nasisa grimaced. 

“She won’t need to,” said Chaupi. “We have you. And as much as I have ever believed in anything, I believe in your power to do this.”

“I shall try not to disappoint you.”

Chaupi watched her face carefully. She’d been looking at him when she started speaking, but by the time she finished she was looking back out over the great valley, and he found himself wondering to whom she had made that promise.


	8. Chapter 8

For Amelia, changing out of her disguise and planning the ambush on the train had been the most comfortingly familiar experience since her arrival on Capra.  It was a relief to be able to step out of the investigation and unfamiliar cultural explorations to concentrate on a purely tactical problem. Ground combat was a limited part of the syllabus for naval officers whose business was normally ship-based, but she had seen enough action in the Nebula War to feel confident in leading the plans.  Given that they needed to take the train intact, she had chosen a long, relatively straight stretch of track that ran through a shallow cutting and set Lonarec’s Wilian foresters to bring down a sturdy tree across its path in a place where the driver would be sure to see it in advance and brake to a halt. A second tree had been prepared for felling further up the track in order to trap the train completely. Beyond that, it was simply a case of dispersing the attack force - Amelia, Chaupi, Endali’s hunters and a few other volunteers - in concealed positions to quickly take control of both the engine and guard’s van.  Amelia hoped that the Company crew would surrender without a fight. Aside from her own compact handgun and a few relics like Nasisa’s rifle stolen from the NHC’s stocks, the resistance had no modern weapons and, while the Sabiran composite bows certainly looked powerful, they were hardly likely to penetrate the wooden walls of a train car. Beyond that, all they had were a few traditional or improvised spears and the axes of the Wilian contingent. Still, she at least had no doubts at all about the courage of the Capram who wielded them and was glad to have them on her side as she crouched in a natural hollow at the edge of the forest overlooking the railway.

“All is ready, ma’am,” said Chaupi, emerging from the undergrowth with Endali alongside.  “We are in position, and there are hunters watching the track to give us early warning.”

“Good,” Amelia nodded.  “And now we wait.”

“You do not know when the train is coming?” Endali asked.

“I’m afraid we neglected to steal a timetable when we left Port Machonochie,” said Amelia wryly.  “But if it’s true that they run every day, and we haven’t seen one yet, it must only be a few hours away.  I trust your hunters can maintain their vigilance?”

“Of course.”  Endali looked annoyed at the question.  “Often we will have to lie motionless amid drifts of snow for a full day just for the chance to send a single arrow at a predator as it passes.”

“Excellent,” Amelia grinned.  “And I trust that Nasisa’s unit is standing by, Mr Chaupi?”

“She’s ready, ma’am,” said Chaupi.  “They’ll take the train as soon as it stops.”

“Then we’ll have to take the guard’s van,” said Amelia.  “A pity we don’t quite know where it’ll be.”

“The hunters on watch will count the number of cars in the train,” said Endali.  “They will tell us with their signals. We will have a few minutes to move if we have to.”

“Consider me impressed, then, Endali,” said Amelia.  She drew her pistol and checked the power cell before holstering it again.  “That may be necessary. We need to present an irresistible front from the start.  That way, the train crew might be induced to surrender without bloodshed.”

Endali shrugged, giving the impression that he was at best neutral about the issue.  “Surrender or not, we will defeat them. This is the one part of the plan I am confident about.”

“Even so, it would be better if we can do this without killing anyone,” said Amelia.  “Make sure your hunters know to capture, not kill. Unless they have to.”

Endali nodded.  “We will try. Nasisa has told us she wishes the same.  I will go and see to the watchers along the track to tell them.”

He left, pushing his way through the bushes.  Amelia watched him critically.

“Do you think we can trust him, Mr Chaupi?” she muttered.  “I don’t want any loose cannons on an operation like this.”

“His respect for Nasisa should keep him in line,” said Chaupi.  “And his hunters will follow him. But you must remember how much Capram have suffered.  It would be remarkable if there were  _ not _ feelings of revenge.”

“I understand that, but they need to keep them in check.  Especially once we get to Port Machonochie. I’ve already seen that some people don’t trust the Hircans even though there are Hircans in the resistance.  The last thing we need is a civil war.” Amelia grimaced. 

“Most of the Capram in Port Machonochie are unclanned,” said Chaupi.  “But I take your point. Justice will have to be done to collaborators, but a revolution is not the means for it.”

“I quite agree.  And I hope you can convince your fellow Capram of that,” said Amelia.  

“We are still a people of laws,” Chaupi said firmly.  “Despite everything that has been done to our world. Dividing and conquering us was the Company’s game.  Now we can prove that we are better than that. To them...and to ourselves.”

\----------------------------

Amelia lay on her back in the hollow, looking up at the light coming through the distant canopy and chewing absently on a stick of some sort of dried vegetable that the Capram had given her.  The spicy taste was enjoyable, though the substance of the thing was clearly designed for someone with sturdier teeth than felinids possessed. There was little else for her to do - her dispositions were made and would not be improved by pedantic checking, and she was keeping her ears alert for any sound out of the ordinary.  Relaxing the body while keeping the mind sharp was an art much valued by the Royal Navy for whom warfare consisted of ninety-nine parts of uneventful spacing and one part of unmitigated violence and that was one thing that felinids’ keen senses did make them particularly well-suited for. So it was that, when the first horn calls wafted mournfully down the railway line, Amelia sat bolt upright in an instant and reached for her pistol.

“Mr Chaupi?”

“Yes.”  Chaupi, who had been attempting to retune the  _ vaisu _ he had recovered from Nasisa’s hideout, put it aside and stood up, gripping a rifle.  “It’s happening.”

There was a sound of running feet and breaking wood behind them as Endali jumped down into the hollow, breathing hard.

“The train is coming,” he confirmed.  “It is longer than we thought. We need to move back up the line.”

“How far?” Amelia stopped herself, deciding not to risk important measurements over the language barrier.  “No, never mind. Just lead us to where we need to be.”

Endali nodded and barked orders to the other hunters lying in wait nearby, waving them to their feet and leading them along the edge of the forest, leaping over fallen logs, pushing through bracken and leaping over gullies or rocks.  Amelia kept pace, following close behind Endali and making sure that Chaupi was with them. Glancing to her left, Amelia saw that they had left the cutting behind and were running downhill towards flatter ground. 

“Damn,” she hissed.  “Endali! We’ll need someone to cover the other side!  We can’t risk the crew getting away!”

Endali turned and pointed to two of his hunters, who darted out of the forest and across the tracks to dive into cover on the other side while Amelia began hastily assembling a new position.  She had only a few seconds before the sound of the train approached, and a moment later she saw the bullet-shaped front of the locomotive and the rusty golden-red sheet of its lateen solar sail.  Behind it came the familiar line of dusty ore wagons, clanking along the line. Ducking into cover behind a log, Amelia watched the locomotive cabin go by and for a moment saw the shadowy figures of the drivers inside it. Then she breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the metallic screech of the brakes being applied - they had seen the tree across the line and were braking.  Peering over the log and looking back along the track, she saw the end of the line of ore carts and the boxy guard’s van at the rear. That was their target. Not for the first time in thinking about this ambush, she wished for the presence of Arrow or Ko and even a small fireteam of their crack Royal Marines, but they would have to make do. 

“Ready, Mr Chaupi,” she muttered.  “Remember not to fire unless you have to.  And if you do, remember that museum piece you’ve got has one shot before you have to reload.  How many power packs have you got for it, again?”

“Three, ma’am.  Including the one already loaded.  But that will be enough.” Chaupi gripped the antique rifle closely.  

“So I trust.”  Amelia judged the train to be close to halting completely.  “Right! Attack group, move out! Secure the guard’s van!”

She sprang out of cover, vaulting over the log to land by the track in a crouch, her pistol raised and braced before her.  Rising swiftly, she advanced on it, keeping one eye on the cupola on its roof from where she knew the guards could fire down on any attacker.  Reaching the side of the van, Chaupi close behind her, she raised a fist and thumped the wooden wall.

“Guards!  We have you surrounded!  Surrender your weapons and you won’t be harmed!”

Endali’s hunters were surrounding the van, long arrows nocked to their bows.  It was Amelia’s hope that shock and awe would win the day, but to her dismay she heard the electric crackle of a laslock opening fire from the rear of the van.  A hunter who had been preparing to mount the steps yelled and fell back and his fellows loosed their arrows. Amelia heard them striking the wood with a series of dull thuds, but the laser fire continued as she ran around in a wide arc to get a clear line of sight as the wounded Capram struggled to his feet.

“Guards, drop your weapons!” she shouted again.  “Last warning! Cease your fire and come out with your hands up!”

She could see now that the van door was ajar.  A yellow-coated figure inside was sticking a rifle barrel through it, firing at anything that crossed the sights.  Not a Hircan, Amelia knew - it was a modern weapon, the sort used by the Company’s offworld mercenaries. She raised her pistol and returned fire, her shots scorching holes in the wood.  She heard Chaupi fire off a shot from his rifle, punching a bigger hole in the door and blowing it open. Taking advantage of the fact, she fired twice more and saw the rifle barrel drop to the deck.  

“Cease fire!  Cease fire! Everyone!  That includes you, Endali!”

“There may be more of them,” Endali snarled, an arrow half-drawn on his bow.

“I know there are.  But they’re not shooting at us.”  Amelia approached the van, her pistol still tightly held and aimed as she raised her voice.  “Put your weapons down and come out with your hands up! This is your last warning! Surrender peacefully and you won’t be harmed!”

“Do...do you promise?”  A shaky voice called from inside the van.

“If you come peacefully, yes.”  Amelia took a hand off her pistol briefly to grip the railing and swing herself up onto the stairs, still covering the doorway.  From this angle, she could see the fallen body of the mercenary she’d killed - a Cragorian by the looks of him. “If you don’t, we’ll do this the other way, as your friend there just learned.”

“All right!  All right! We’re coming out.  There’s only two of us left now.”

“Keep your hands where we can see them,” Amelia warned.

“Yes, yes!  We’re coming out now!”

Two figures pushed open the door and stepped over the Cragorian’s body.  One was a human in the Company’s dirty yellow battledress. The other, to Amelia’s surprise - though she masked it quickly - was Berke, the overseer who they had seen in Quranaq.  But of course, she remembered, he’d said he was travelling to Port Machonochie…

“You’re unarmed?” she demanded.

“Yes, yes, totally unarmed!”  Berke nodded quickly, but his nerves gave way to puzzlement at the sight of Amelia.  “You...you’re not Capram. Who are you? Are you with the Company? Who’s your supervisor?”

“You’re in no position to ask questions,” Amelia cut him off, aware out of the corner of her eye that Chaupi had spotted the man who had assaulted his father and was keeping him covered with his rifle.  “Just get down off the train right now.”

The mercenary complied willingly, not prepared to argue with the number of weapons pointing in his direction from the semicircle of hunters surrounding the rear of the van.  Berke’s astonishment seemed to temporarily override his sense of self-preservation until the same thought occurred to him, and he followed. Amelia swung around through the open door, sweeping the interior of the van with her pistol, but Berke had been telling the truth - the spartan interior was lined with barrels and small crates, a hammock hanging from the ceiling and two chairs, but there was no other sign of life and a rack against the wall even held an unused rifle.  Satisfied, Amelia left and dropped down onto the track from the railing. The prisoners were being tied up by the Capram, Chaupi glaring at Berke with undisguised hatred.

“All clear in there, Mr Chaupi,” Amelia said.  “A job well done. Endali? Take that body and get it into the forest out of sight just in case another train comes this way.”

Endali nodded and waved to a couple of his hunters, who put up their bows and mounted the stairs to behind dragging the dead man’s heavy body away.  

“Take his rifle, Mr Chaupi.  And there’s another one in there.  Give yours to someone else.” Amelia waited for the usual acknowledgement of the order, but heard nothing and turned to see Chaupi’s baleful gaze still fixed on Berke, who was clearly intimidated though also clearly ignorant as to the reason for it.

“Mr Chaupi!”

He shook himself and turned to nod.  “Aye, ma’am. As you order.”

Amelia watched him go, and then turned to see Nasisa and a group of other armed Capram marching up the line to meet them.  They were herding a pair of other Capram whose hands were tied and who were wearing grubby white boiler suits of Imperial manufacture that clearly marked them as train crew.  Amelia glanced at their horns and saw the white paint that marked them as unclanned.

“Amelia!  We have the train!”  Nasisa grinned, her rifle not moving from her prisoners’ backs.  “These two were the only ones on board.”

“We’ve got two prisoners of our own,” said Amelia.  “Plus a third who wouldn’t come quietly. Did you take any casualties?”

“No.  They were unarmed.  You?”

“One.”  Amelia pointed to the side of the tracks, where the wounded hunter was having his wound dressed by one of his fellows.  The first wild laslock shot had burned a deep flesh wound through his right shoulder, the heat of the pulse cauterising it instantly. Nasisa nodded and hurried over to him, opening up a large pouch on her belt.  

“Ma’am?”  Chaupi returned, a new rifle over his shoulder.  “What shall we do with the prisoners?”

“The two we took?  Blindfold them, gag them, then get them somewhere out of the way and under guard,” said Amelia.  “They’re too much of a liability to bring with us to Port Maconochie.”

“You are going to Port Machonochie?” One of the train crewmen spoke up.  They were kneeling now, under the blades of their captors’ spears and axes.

“Yes.  Which is where you two come in.”  Amelia turned to them. “You can help us get there.  Cooperate, and you won’t be harmed. If you refuse, you’ll get what they’re getting.”  She waved to where Berke and the mercenary, hand bound and with rope gags in their mouths, were being hustled away into the forest.  

“I...but if we help...the Company...our families…” 

“There is nothing to be afraid of,” said Chaupi.  “The Company will not be able to harm you, or your families.”

“What is it that you are doing?”

“Agree to help us, and find out,” said Amelia.

One of the crewmen shook his head.  “No...no, this is madness. You threaten us, you attack us?  How can we know you are friends?”

“I am a Story Keeper.”  Chaupi made the gesture Amelia had seen him make in Inaya’s cave.  “We are Capram, same as you. You are not our enemy - our quarrel is with the NHC, not you or your families.”

“But it is our families who will pay if we help you!” said the crewman.  “You might as well put the guns to their heads yourselves.”

“With you on our side, we have a chance to make sure that can never happen again,” said Chaupi.  

“I…” For a moment, it looked as if Chaupi’s persuasion had worked, but then the crewman shook his head.  “I cannot. Do what you will with me. It will not be worse than what the Company would do, and at least it will spare my family.”

Amelia sighed.  “So be it. Endali?  Take him away. But treat him well.”

“It will be done,” said Endali.  “He is one of us. And not the first to be cowed by the Company’s threats.”

“And you?”  Amelia turned to the other crewman.  “What’s your name?”

“I...Jomari.  Second driver.”  The Capram looked uncertainly at Chaupi.  “You are a Story Keeper?”

“Yes.  I am Chaupi of the Orea.”  Chaupi smiled. 

“My grandfather was Orea.”  Jomari looked down and then around at the forces Nasisa had mustered, a thoughtful look on his face.  “Do you really think you can achieve this? You will have to beat the Company. Nobody has done that. Can you?”

“We hope so,” said Chaupi.  “There are many of us. But we need your help to reach Port Machonochie in time.”

That, Amelia knew, was not strictly true - she had little doubt that between herself and Chaupi, they would be familiar enough with Imperial technology to work out the operation of the train, but the appeal seemed to touch something in Jomari, who licked his lips nervously.  

“I have family in Port Machonochie,” he said.  

“Then help us to free them,” insisted Chaupi.  “A new story will begin on Capra. You will have a role to play in that story.  The question is, will you take it?”

Jomari took a deep breath.  “I will take it.”

Chaupi smiled.  “Inaya’s thanks, my friend.”

Nasisa rejoined them, packing away what Amelia now saw was a medical kit made from a mix of stolen and indigenous components.  She saw the question in Amelia’s eyes and nodded.

“He will live, and keep the arm.  But he will have to stay at Chaupi’s village while he recovers.  We must move on.”

“I agree.  Time is of the essence.”  Amelia nodded. “Jomari here has agreed to help us get the train underway.”

“Thank you.”  Nasisa held out a hand to help him to his feet, a gesture of kindredness that struck Amelia after the hard-fought violence of the ambush.  Jomari seemed to appreciate it as well and appeared to lose some of his nervousness.

“Lonarec?  Take your foresters and clear the track ahead,” Nasisa said, picking out the Wilian leader.  “Be quick. And then fell a tree across it behind us - but make it look natural.”

Lonarec nodded and began heading back along the train, half a dozen axemen following him while another group disappeared into the woods behind them.  Nasisa turned to Amelia and smiled.

“Your plan is off to a good start, Amelia,” she said.

“It would appear so.”  Amelia smiled back. “Let’s get everyone mounted up, and then let’s go and get your planet back.”

\----------------------------

Unloading the ore cars had, blessedly, been easy.  Jomari showed them where the emergency cargo release levers were, and while some had taken a great deal of force to use, they all ultimately worked, tipping the cars’ hoppers onto their sides and spilling their contents in great, clattering clouds of rock and dust by the trackside.  After the Wilians had cleared the track, the rebels boarded the train and began their journey to Port Machonochie. Amelia rode in the cabin of the train along with Nasisa, who stopped Jomari here and there at places that appeared to the felinid to be of no significance at all. Invariably, however, once the train stopped, dozens of Capram appeared from out of the forest and climbed on board before Nasisa ordered the train back into motion.  Something of a carnival atmosphere was brewing, with some of the Capram having brought food, flags and even musical instruments with them. Despite the sound of the locomotive, Amelia had caught snatches of singing and laughter from the growing army - if such a term could be applied to a gathering of actually or effectively unarmed civilians ranging from elderly ones who had to be helped aboard and at least a few small children. Amelia felt a pang of guilt at the sight of the latter, and renewed her hopes that they weren’t going to be walking into a massacre.

“How many are with us?” asked Nasisa.

Chaupi shrugged.  He had taken charge of embarking the newcomers and had just returned to the locomotive, making a perilous journey over the creaking, rattling couplings between the wagons and the engine that would have made a nervous wreck of anyone who had never made a living amid a warship’s tops.

“Perhaps three hundred now?  Or perhaps three hundred and twenty.  How many were you expecting?”

“I do not know,” Nasisa shook her head.  “My contacts only said they would be here to join us.  They did not know how many of their people they could bring.”

“Every one is a gain,” said Amelia.

“Yes, of course.  But I recall the other driver, the one who would not help us.”  Nasisa sighed sadly. “I fear there will be many like him. People who have no love for the Company, but who will be too afraid to support us.  Not all will be as brave as Jomari here. Especially in Port Machonochie, where the Company’s hand lies heaviest.”

“There are more like me, even there,” said Jomari, adjusting one of the train’s controls.  “But they will need to be confident that you can succeed. Unclanned must rely on the Company for jobs and food.”

“That will change after we drive the Company away,” said Nasisa firmly.  “All Capram must be welcomed back to Inaya’s family. Clanned or unclanned should make no difference.”

“Then you’ll have to make it so,” said Amelia.  “They’ll be looking to you for leadership, I expect.  Especially since you’re the one who’ll have led the resistance and carried their stories.”

Nasisa glanced at Chaupi and gave him a small smile.  “The thought does not frighten me as much as it might once have done.  But it would not be right to look to just one person. The Council of Elders would be restored.  Our future decisions must be made together.”

“Perhaps you’ll be on the Council,” Chaupi smiled back.  “They could probably do with you.”

Nasisa shrugged modestly.  “Only if it were willed.”

“I’m sure it will be,” said Chaupi.  “The resistance must surely take its part in shaping your world’s future.  And someone would have to speak for the unclanned.”

“Yes.  Of course.  These are things that will have to be resolved.”  Nasisa nodded. “But there is much to be done first.”  

“Quite right,” said Amelia.  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  Once we get to Port Machonochie, we’ll need to know exactly where to go and what to do.  If there are supporters there, as Jomari said, they’ll have to be found quickly.”

“There will be some in the old marketplace,” said Jomari.  “The Company does not go there much, but we still use it as a place to meet and barter amongst ourselves.  And others in the main town. There will be some in the Settlement also, behind the walls, but the Company will not let them out.”

“We’ll have to make do with what we can,” Amelia looked at Nasisa.  “Even the numbers you have already should be enough to draw attention.”

“I should be disappointed if it did not,” Nasisa grinned.  

Amelia grinned back.  “Precisely. Then I suggest splitting into two groups once we arrive.  Someone will have to go to the marketplace in strength to muster any supporters there.  But if we all go, the Company could pin us against the lake. So someone will have to take another group to secure the town and ensure that there are no...interruptions.”  

“Jomari, Tolmai and I will go to the lake,” said Nasisa.  “I trust you and Chaupi to handle the town.”

“I think we can manage that,” Amelia nodded to Chaupi.  “If you can spare us Endali’s hunters. No doubt there’ll be some security presence that we’ll have to overcome, and I’d rather persuade them to surrender than start a shootout in the streets.”

“Of course.  I do not think we’ll need them in the marketplace.  Is that so, Jomari?”

The driver hesitated, but nodded.  “Y-yes. The Company does not usually send soldiers there, but the Hircans do.”

“Hopefully their fellow clansmen can persuade them to see our side of things,” said Amelia.  “Besides, I would hope that Capram would be more reluctant to fire on Capram than their offworld mercenaries.”

“That has mostly been the case,” agreed Nasisa.  “Chaupi? Can you pass the word to the others? Be sure to find Tolmai and Endali to tell them what we will need of them.”

“Right away, ma’am.  And ma’am.” Chaupi flipped her a salute, did the same to Amelia, then jumped out the cabin door to begin making his way back along the train.  Nasisa watched him go and shook her head theatrically.

“I know he takes this more seriously than he lets on,” she said.  “But sometimes I wonder.”

“I think he uses humour to cover his nerves,” said Amelia.  “Frankly, I doubt that he’s ever taken anything more seriously.”

“It was always his way.”  Nasisa smiled fondly. “Not that I would ever tell him, but I missed it.  Thank you for bringing him back.”

“I can take no credit,” said Amelia.  “He survived the Nebula War with no help from me.  And it’s blind chance that it was our ship that was ordered to bring the colonial inspector here.  Besides, I’m certain he’d have found his own way back eventually.”

“Perhaps.  But by then, perhaps it would have been too late.”

“He’d still have come back for you.”  Amelia smiled. “It’s not exactly hard to see how he feels about you.  I recognise the signs.”

Nasisa detected the sadness in her voice.  “The story you gave to Inaya…”

“Yes.  It was all true.”  Amelia nodded and looked out of the window at the forest racing by outside, its shadows starting to deepen with the falling of twilight.  “She would have liked it here. And she’d have wanted to help you, too.”

“Then she is a good person,” said Nasisa.

Amelia nodded again.  “Yes. She is.”

“Then consider your life richer for having known her.”  Nasisa put a hand on Amelia’s shoulder. “I too know what it is to lose someone for whom you care.  But do not make the mistake I did. I thought Chaupi was dead. I lied to make myself believe it. And so I grieved.  But you do not have to.”

“Yes.  I suppose you’re right about that.”  Amelia gave a small smile. “To know that she’s alive is something of a blessing.  I hadn’t looked at it like that before.”

“You thought the story had ended,” said Nasisa.  “It hasn’t. Your continues. So will hers.”

Amelia chuckled.  “I’d expect that kind of advice from Mr Chaupi.”

“You don’t have to be a Story Keeper to know that,”  Nasisa patted her shoulder encouragingly. “Not many stories ever truly end.  They just change.”

“Perhaps you’re right.”  Amelia smiled, her expression softening as she thought it through.  “Yes...perhaps you’re right…”

\----------------------------

The sun was starting to illuminate the sky as the train began the final approach to Port Machonochie, though the town’s lights were still on and the interior of the station was brightly illuminated by harsh fluorescent lamps.  Amelia tried to count how many workers she could see in there waiting, but failed.

“Drop us as close to the station as you can, Jomari,” she said.  “The closer the better.”

“If we could get into the station, we would have much more cover,” pointed out Nasisa.

“Yes, but there is a level there which tips the wagons over to empty them into the silos in the hill,” said Jomari.  “I cannot override it. If we stay outside the station, I can use the emergency control to turn the wagons.”

“Then we have no choice.”  Nasisa pulled the strap on her rifle tighter across her shoulders.  “We will have to move fast.”

“There’s open ground downhill of the tracks,” said Amelia, pointing to where she and Chaupi had hidden waiting to board the outbound train what now felt like weeks ago.  “And nothing much to stop you getting into the town from there if you move fast and stay low to the ground.”

Nasisa nodded.  “Very good. But your route may not be so simple.”

“There didn’t seem to be much security around the station when we left,” said Amelia.  “But if anything’s going to go wrong for us, it’ll be there. Mr Chaupi? Is everyone ready?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Chaupi confirmed.  “Everyone knows their parts.”

“Good.  Then there’s nothing to do but wait.”

Waiting, as Amelia knew, was often the hardest part of any battle.  Once action was joined there was no time to think of anything much beyond the immediate concerns of survival and duty, but the prelude was a terrible time to have an active imagination.  Their plan was as good as it could be, she knew, but it left more to chance than she was comfortable with. She glanced at her companions and saw their faces set in masks of concentration and knew that she was not alone in her apprehensions.  The train lurched and groaned as Jomari began throttling down, braking slightly sooner than he normally would have done in order to stop the train outside the station. 

“Here we go, everyone,” she said.  “Ready, Jomari?”

“Ready.”  One of the driver’s hands was on the brake controls, the other hovering over a red-painted lever.  The train was slowing considerably now, and Amelia saw a couple of figures emerge from inside the station to approach it, clearly curious as to the reason for its unusual deceleration.  There weren’t many, but there were enough to make her nervous. At least they were probably just station hands who were unlikely to put up a fight. Jomari blew a couple of blasts on the train’s horn as they trundled along at little more than walking speed.  Amelia took a deep breath as the distance counted down.

“All stop here,” she said.  “And dump the wagons.”

Jomari jerked the brake on fully, causing the train to screech to a halt.  Even before its massive inertia had been completely neutralised, he pulled on the red level and Amelia glanced over her shoulder to see the ore wagons tipping over, eager crowd of Capram spilling from them and leaping to the ground.

“With me, Mr Chaupi!”

Chaupi got to his feet to follow her, trading a nod and confident smile with Nasisa, who sprang out of the other side of the cabin, calling in Capram for her followers.  Laslocks in hand and Endali close behind, Amelia and Chaupi raced around the front of the train and took aim at the workers who had been coming out to meet them. They were Capram, and clearly taken by surprise, flinging up their hands at the sight of the levelled weapons.  

“Down on your knees!”  Amelia shouted. “Get down!  Endali, take them away!”

She didn’t dare stop, knowing that speed and surprise was their best ally.  She ran on into the hangar-like interior of the station, eyes alert for any movement as she mounted the platform.  A set of iron stairs led up to some kind of control office and she waved Chaupi to take it while she swept the lower floor.  Here and there a startled worker would pop up, take one look at the pistol she was aiming at them, and surrender. Amelia would already have moved on by the time the Sabirans following her took the new prisoners away.  Some of the Capram, perhaps, might have been willing to join them, but that was a longer conversation than she had time for at the moment. Reaching the end of the building she saw that the wide double-door to the street was open, and she swung it closed in the hope of buying a few extra seconds in case they were spotted.  There being no apparent threat, she turned to see Capram assembling behind her. Chaupi was coming down the stairs, pushing a trio of stunned-looking Company staff ahead of him at rifle-point.

“All secure, Mr Chaupi?”

“All secure, ma’am,” he nodded.  “They tried to telephone the Company but I was able to stop them with a little help.”

Amelia noticed that another familiar figure was following behind Chaupi. “Tayki! I thought you worked in one of the warehouse offices.”

The unclanned Capram smiled nervously. “Just Suyani, now. The code name is of no use anymore. You are correct that I usually work there and not here, but over the past few days, the lines have been  _ unreliable _ and they needed someone to keep communications alive. I just happened to volunteer.”

Amelia raised a brow conspiratorially. “It certainly sounds as if you have been keeping busy.”

“Not just me. We may be unclanned, but this is just as much our home as it is for any other Capram. Those of us who were brave enough have been doing what we could to inconvenience the Company. Embarrass them in front of their guests. Setting the tone of their incompetence. I knew you would come back and we’ve been preparing to help when you do.”  He smiled hopefully, optimism shining in his eyes as he took in the scene. “It’s really happening, isn’t it?”

Amelia nodded. “Yes. And we will need a show of force. As big as we can make it. Can you help us?”

“Of course! Let me make a call to one of my allies to start gathering our people and then I will run ahead of you to spread the word.”

“You should go to the old town marketplace,” said Chaupi.  “We have people there rallying support already. They could use you.”

“I will go straight there!”  With that, the young Capram sprinted up the stairs back to the office.  Behind him, Endali frowned in suspicion. “Can we trust him? For all we know, he could be warning the Company!”

“We can,” Chaupi interjected. “He was my original contact before I was captured and he stole information for us from the Company. He has risked as much for this cause as any of us here.” He turned back to Amelia and gestured to the employees he helped detain. “What would you like me to do with them, ma’am?”

“Tie them up and keep them safe.”  Amelia glanced around. “Anyone else?”

“We will put them with the others,” said Endali.  “I’ll see to it myself.”

“Excellent.”  Amelia took a deep breath and looked around the Capram.  They seemed alert, nervous but excited, and her own adrenaline was raised at the audacity of what they were attempting.  “Well done everyone, but don’t forget that this was just the start. I suspect that this will get harder before it gets easier.  Stick close together, and follow me.”

\----------------------------

The Company’s soldiers in the town were dispersed for constabulary duties, in twos or threes, rather than concentrated in sufficient strength to face down the rebels.  As it was, the Hircan guards quickly saw they had no choice other than to surrender, and even the offworld mercenaries quickly gave up when confronted by a wall of captured laslocks or nocked hunting bows - as Amelia had hoped, they were being paid enough to kill for the NHC, but not enough to die for it, and none were suicidal enough to risk their own deaths in order to flee to raise the alarm.  Even so, she was certain that their presence had been noticed. Some of the townspeople, learning what was happening, had joined them and swelled their ranks, but many others had hidden behind closed doors and Amelia had to hope that it was simple fear or uncertainty rather than a lack of support. Signal flags flying above the fortified Settlement had been changing rapidly, and Amelia knew it could only be in response to the growing crowd of rebels in the town.  She and Chaupi had gathered their Capram in the main street, just over half a mile from the grey stone walls of the Company fortress. She couldn’t see any sentries on them, but she knew they were being watched, and she waited impatiently until Nasisa arrived at the head of another crowd. Many were carrying makeshift banners made from sheets. Some bore slogans in haphazard Standard such as the simple but effective ‘NHC OUT’ while others bore patterns or decorations like the ones on Chaupi’s  _ nay _ .  Nasisa waved to Amelia and Chaupi as she joined them, a confident spring in her step.  

“How many did you recruit?” Amelia asked.  “I’m sure you didn’t have so many people at the station.”

“Maybe two hundred from the old marketplace district,” said Nasisa.  “Mostly unclanned, but many Hirca as well. And you?”

“Not so many,” Chaupi shook his head.  “Perhaps seventy.”

“Do not be sad,” said Jomari.  “Most of the Capram from this part of town work for the Company, so would be in the Settlement by now.”

“So I feared,” Amelia grimaced.  “Well, let’s make do. Did you take any casualties?”

“A few scuffles, but nothing serious,” said Nasisa.  “Some of the Hircan soldiers even joined us.”

“Good.  Though I’m not sure if their uniforms will be an asset if it comes to a fight.”  Amelia nodded. “Let’s go. We’ll stop at the edge of the buildings - there’s a wide cleared area between the town and the Settlement and we’re asking for trouble if we step into it.”

“Only to the edge of town,” Nasisa confirmed.  “I will pass the word.”

The tension mounted palpably as the crowd advanced.  The songs and shouts that had spontaneously broken out as they assembled slowly died away, replaced by a quiet, resolved determination.  Eventually the only sound was the crunching of footsteps as they neared the place where the last of the buildings stood, and looked across the forty metres of open ground that stood between them and the Settlement.  

“Now what happens?” asked Endali.

“Now we wait for their next move,” said Amelia.  “Tell everyone to be ready. If we have to take cover, people should head for the nearest side of the street.  Don’t head back downhill.”

Nasisa shook her head.  “We should stake our claim.  While it is quiet.”

She stepped forward, placing herself a few metres ahead of the crowd, and raised her hands.  Her voice rang loud and clear across the no-man’s-land to the fort.

“We are the Capram!  A people united! We dispute the presence of the New Horizons Company!  We seek to petition the Imperial inspector! We seek to present our grievances!”

Silence fell again as her words echoed off the bowl of the hills. With a Capram's lung capacity ideally suited for high altitudes, and a voice evolved to carry from hilltop to hilltop in their mountainous homeland, she needed no aid for her words to reach their target. A wind seemed to blow up the valley, making the yellow Company flags and the handmade banners of the rebels flap and crack in the breeze as Amelia and Chaupi moved up to join Nasisa.  As if in response, figures in NHC uniform began appearing at the battlements on the wall. One raised a loudspeaker to reply.

“This gathering is not authorised!  You are disturbing the peace and good order of Port Machonochie!  You will disperse and go back to your homes!”

“Maillu,” muttered Chaupi, recognising the Hircan story keeper’s voice even before Amelia did.  “Of course he would be the one they send out.”

“The elders have made their decision!” His loudspeaker clearly meant to drown out any argument.  “You should leave! The Company is willing to grant amnesty to those who go peacefully!” 

“Don’t believe them!” shouted Nasisa, taking in the rifles that glinted in the hands of the other figures along the wall.  “We stand our ground here!”

“Go back to your homes!  Back to your families!” Maillu called.  

“We will not speak with you!” Chaupi called back.  “We are here to speak to Inspector Bellinger! And to the Company!”

The figure of Maillu seemed to step back and handed the loudspeaker to someone else.  This time, only Amelia recognised the harsh voice that rang out.

“This is General Cathcart of the NHC!  Listen to your elders. Withdraw and disperse, or we will take action against you.”

“A bluff?” said Chaupi.

Amelia remembered what Arrow had told her about Cathcart and grimaced.  “I’m afraid I doubt it.”

“Bring out the Imperial inspector!” Nasisa shouted.  “We wish to speak with him!”

“You will see no one!” Cathcart’s reply was swift.  “You will disperse and return to your homes!”

"Ma'am?"  Chaupi was pointing up.  "The  _ Resolute _ 's setting sails."

Amelia looked up at the port above the Settlement.  White semicircles were starting to unfurl from the  _ Resolute _ 's yards.  Even from this distance she felt a rumble as the big warship lit her engines and prepared to cast off.

"Perfect," she murmured.

“This city was built on our stolen lands,” Nasisa called.  “We are already home!”

The fortress gate opened and Amelia felt a chill of fear at the sight of the massed Company troopers behind it.  They marched out and took up a formation directly ahead - sixty or seventy men with modern, rapid-firing laslock rifles, with two dozen more on the walls above and behind them.  More than enough, she knew, to scatter the crowd of anxious civilians that constituted the rebellion. A drummer was beating out a martial tattoo as they formed up into ranks, the harsh rattle of the drum unnerving some of the Capram still further.    

“Courage, my friends!” Chaupi called to the crowd.  “Stand with courage! Inaya’s way will see us through!”

“We do not wish for violence!” Nasisa shouted to the walls.  “We wish to speak with the Imperial inspector!”

Cathcart ignored her.  “You will disperse or you will  _ be _ dispersed!  Company! Charge your weapons!  Port arms!”

The troops assembled in front of them raised their rifles to their fronts in one smooth move.  

“Company, fix bayonets!”

Seventy bayonets clicked into place, a forest of razor-edged blades that glittered in the morning sun as they were held aloft.  Even Amelia had to admit that it was an intimidating sight.

“Company, at the ready!”

The front rank of yellow-clad troops lowered their rifles to the hip, bayonets facing forward now.  It wasn’t a position for accurate shooting, but they didn’t need accuracy against a massed target. Amelia’s pulse quickened and she sensed that a turning point was coming - for them or against them, one way or another, a bridge was about to be crossed.  

“Steady, everyone,” said Nasisa firmly, not flinching from the arsenal now aimed in her direction.

“There will be no further warnings,” shouted Cathcart.  “Withdraw! Disperse!”

“We wish to speak to the Imperial inspector!” Nasisa repeated.

“Then you give us no choice!” Cathcart’s voice rose.  “Company! Advance to your front!”

But even as the drum rattled again and soldiers stepped forward, the sound of a cannon echoed around the valley.  A second shot followed, then a third, but there was no crashing of shells and the shots had not come from the fort.  Amelia looked up and saw smoke drifting from three of the  _ Resolute _ 's gunports as the ship-of-the-line turned in a wide arc that began bringing her back over the town towards where the Capram and NHC confronted each other.  The firing had caused many of the Capram and even a few of the Company troopers to duck. If that was what a handful of signal rounds could achieve, Amelia held high hopes for what a full broadside might do.  The two Company gunboats were already steering away, evidently wary of the leviathan that was now asserting command of the sky. The Resolute's war horn sounded out a series of brazen calls that boomed and echoed off the hills and seemed to set up distant reverberations in Amelia's chest.

_ Hold fast _ , it seemed to say to her,  _ and fear nought.  I'm coming. _

"The Captain knows how to make an entry all right," she smiled.  

"Amelia?"  Nasisa was watching the battleship's approach with awe and no small amount of alarm.  

"Don't worry," said Amelia.  "Those were signal rounds - only blanks.  The ship's just trying to get everyone's attention."

"It's working," murmured Nasisa.

Flurries of red signal flares launched from each of the  _ Resolute _ ’s flanks, their curving trajectories and white smoky trails giving the ship the momentary look of an avenging angel spreading its wings until the smoke was caught and dispersed by her wake.  Longboats took off from the  _ Resolute _ 's main deck, racing ahead of her towards the scene of the standoff. Company troopers and Capram alike stepped back and raised their hands to cover their faces as the wash of the longboats' engines passed overhead.  The swift, light craft touched down in the empty ground between the two sides and figures began leaping off them as Arrow's stentorian voice boomed out, drowning even the roaring sound of the  _ Resolute _ ’s engines reversing thrust as she began braking.

"Marines will form skirmish lines back-to-back!  Fix your bayonets and stand ready!"

Resplendently red-coated Royal Marines fanned out as if on parade, forming a double-line in between the Capram and Company forces, facing in both directions, rifles in hand.  Silver bayonets clicked into place on their barrels as a sustained gust of wind and a bone-shaking roar indicated the arrival of the  _ Resolute  _ overhead at an altitude of less than forty metres, her thrusters nudging her to a complete halt and turning her broadside-on.  Her gunports were open and her batteries on full display to both sides in an awe-inspiring display of might. 

"Tell everyone to move back, Nasisa," said Amelia.  "Peacefully, and right now."

Nasisa nodded and shouted something in Capram.  The crowd began drawing away a short distance down the street, lowering such weapons as they'd possessed in the first place and taking shelter from the dust being whipped up by the battleship's thruster wash.  The Company strike force, meanwhile, had regained most of its composure and began advancing again. Amelia saw Ko step out of the line of marines and raise a white-gloved hand as she walked towards them. The officer leading the force gestured to the men behind him to stop, while he came forward.  His yellow uniform coat was heavy with tarnished gold braid, but Ko saw the three pins of a captain's rank insignia studded into his raised collar. For his part, he glanced at the three white chevrons on Ko's sleeve as she stood in front of him and scoffed.

"Out of the way, sergeant. I've got orders to disperse this mob."

"Can't let you do that, sir," said Ko.  "I've got orders of my own to turn you ‘round.  Take your men back to the Settlement. The Navy is taking control of this situation."

"By whose authority?" 

"Captain Sir Edmund Forsythe's, sir," said Ko firmly.  "I suggest you don't test him."

"I don't answer to Sir Edmund," the officer sneered.  "I answer to General Cathcart. Now get your pretty little red coats out of sight before they get hurt."

"Since when was your Cathcart a General, sir?  'Cause the last I heard, he was only a Brigadier, right up until he was kicked out onto his arse." Ko cocked an eyebrow. "I'll tell you again.  In the name of Her Majesty's Royal Navy, go back to the fort and bloody well stay there."

"Or else what?"

"Or else," Ko wrapped her fingers around the butt of her holstered pistol, "I'll carry out the rest of my instructions.  You see that seventy-four hovering up there, sir? It'll be the least of your concerns if you disobey my captain’s orders, ‘cause I’m down here with you and I’ve got orders to stop you passing.  So stand down, step back, turn around, and walk away. While you still can."

The Company officer rolled his eyes.  "I've wasted enough time with you, sergeant.  Get out of my way. I won't bother telling you again."

He stepped forward, beckoning to his men to follow him, only to find Ko's pistol suddenly in her hand, drawn and aimed straight at him, its power cell whining to life.  

"Give me a reason, sir," growled Ko, her scar twitching with anger. "Just one.  Doesn't even have to be a very good one."

The captain hesitated for a moment.  An amateur might have aimed the gun at his head, but that would have been easily dodged, so she was aiming it instead at his chest, her finger resting lightly but firmly on the trigger.  Her ice-blue eyes didn’t blink as he met them.

"Enough!"  Arrow strode up.  "Take your men back to the fort, captain.  Port Machonochie is under martial law."

"And if I refuse?" the officer narrowed his gaze at Ko, who returned it unflinchingly as she replied matter-of-factly.

"Then I'll kill you where you stand, sir," she said.

"To the fort, captain," Arrow repeated. "It would not reflect well on you if the first shots you fired against a native uprising were directed at the Queen's soldiers."

The officer huffed and glared, reluctantly taking in the sight of Arrow’s rank badges.  "You'll be made to answer for this, colonel."

"As will we all, in time," said Arrow.  "Go, captain."

Ko lowered her pistol as the officer turned and stalked away, shouting orders to his troops, who also turned and marched off, some of them casting resentful glances back over their shoulders at the steady line of red which had stood before them. Ko relaxed and holstered her gun.

"Thank you, sir.  Figured they'd listen to you."

“Sometimes it is a matter of rank rather than right.” Arrow nodded.  "Well done, sergeant. We hold this position by force of authority rather than firepower."

"I dunno, sir.  We've got the only seventy-four in town."

Even Arrow couldn’t deny a grim smile at the felinid’s straightforward approach.  “Even so. The Captain’s orders to avoid bloodshed must be upheld.”

“Aye, sir.  His will be done.”  Ko looked back down the street to where she could see Amelia standing amongst the Capram.  “You think she’s got a plan for this?”

Arrow followed her gaze.  “I’d be lying if I said I knew, sergeant.  But I’m going to find out.”

Ko nodded.  “Is that Mr Chaupi with her?”

“It would appear so.”

“Huh.  Well, there’s a turnup.”  Ko shrugged. “Not ours to reason why, I suppose, sir?”

“You suppose correctly.” Arrow nodded.  “Carry on.”

“Yes, sir!”  Ko touched her hat in salute and watched him move away towards the crowd.

“Does  _ anyone _ know what the hell’s happening, sarge?”  The private nearest to Ko glanced at her nervously.  Ko didn’t, but knew better than to show doubt in front of a subordinate.

“Just watch your front, marine,” she said quietly.  “And keep your faith.”

Arrow walked downhill towards the front ranks of the crowd, acutely conscious of the many eyes focused on him.  Though he had a cutlass and pistol in his belt, he kept his hands visibly away from them as he approached. Seeing him coming, Amelia nodded to Chaupi and Nasisa and went forward to meet him, smiling with relief.

“Mr Arrow, it’s a joy to see you again.”

“And to see you safe, ma’am,” said Arrow.  “Though when you left us, I had not reckoned on this being the manner of your return.”

“I always try to make an effort,” Amelia grinned.

Arrow chuckled.  “And I’m not alone in being curious.  The Captain has summoned you immediately.”

“I thought as much.”  Amelia turned and beckoned to Chaupi and Nasisa.  “May I be permitted to bring two guests? The Captain should speak with them also.”

“I am under orders to find Mr Chaupi as well,” said Arrow.  “As for your third companion-”

“She needs to come, Mr Arrow.”  

Arrow gave up.  “So be it. Forward, Mr Chaupi!  And your friend! A longboat awaits you, and the Captain is not in the mood to be kept waiting.”


	9. Chapter 9

Captain Forsythe was pacing the width of the  _ Resolute _ ’s stateroom like a caged tiger, impatience evident in his every movement, and he was not mollified by the appearance of Amelia and the two Capram, a measure of his temper evident in the way he met Amelia and Chaupi’s salutes only with a baleful glare.  He waved Arrow back out of the room to take command of the situation on the ground below, and then turned his wrath on Amelia.

“You’ve put us into one damnable hell of a situation here, lieutenant,” he snapped.

“I apologise for the circumstances, sir,” said Amelia, remaining carefully at attention.  “Had we been able to communicate our intentions earlier to avoid the surprise, we would have done so.”

“Good intentions do not solve the problem!” said Forsythe.  “Thanks, I presume, to you and Mr Chaupi, my crew - your shipmates - are now caught between two armies who appear to be one accidental discharge away from tearing this city apart!  Do you have any idea how many lives you’ve just put on the line?”

“We are not an army and we do not wish to kill anyone, Captain,” said Nasisa boldly.  “We are a peaceful people. We wish only to speak our truth to you and to your inspector.”

Forsythe raised an eyebrow, but seemed to be impressed at the Capram’s forthright approach.  “And who would you be?”

“I am Nasisa, Captain.  I knew your Chaupi from before he joined you.  And I have come to know your Amelia since she has been here.”  Nasisa looked him in the eye. “And I have placed my faith and fate in their hands.”

“Nasisa speaks for the Capram, sir,” said Amelia.  “She’s come here to put their case to Mr Bellinger.  The Company has been lying to him. And to us. Things here are far worse than they’re portraying.  So bad that I think the NHC is in breach of its warrant.”

“That’s not your decision, lieutenant,” warned Forsythe.

“I know, sir.  That’s why Nasisa’s here in person.”

“Is that so?”  Forsythe eyed Nasisa calculatingly.  “By whose authority do you speak, Ms Nasisa?”

“By common consent, Captain,” said Nasisa.  “Not by authority.”

“I see.  And I suppose you have something to contribute, Ms Amelia?”

Amelia patted the satchel of stolen documents that Suyani had given her.  “Yes, sir. There’s some written proof that the Company’s been deceiving us.”

“I shan’t ask how you came by that proof,” said Forsythe.  

“Another Capram, sir.  One working for the Company.  The documents are authentic.”

“Even so, when accusations are made, the accused have a right to respond,” said Forsythe.  “The NHC will want to put its case as well. Chief Executive Drummond would demand it.”

“And I would not stop it, Captain,” said Nasisa.  “Let them speak too. Let their  _ ina _ be measured against ours.”

“I don’t know what that means, Ms Nasisa.  Nor do I care enough to,” Forsythe added, spotting Chaupi’s mouth starting to open helpfully.  “It will be Mr Bellinger who will have to decide. Fortunately, he’s on his way here. Or he should be, assuming he’s out of bed…”

“Is he not on board, sir?” asked Amelia.

“He has been staying in the Settlement as a guest of the Company,” said Forsythe.  “I called him back for his own safety, but while he’s here, he might as well make himself useful.  This ship is the only piece of neutral ground on the planet, as far as I can make out. We stand between the Company and the Capram.  If the truth is to be found, it must be found here.” He pressed a button behind his desk, and there was the distant sound of a bell ringing.  Moments later, a spacer put his head around the cabin door.

“Sir?”

“Pass the word for Commander Chad at once.”  Forsythe nodded to him. 

“Aye, sir.”  The spacer disappeared and Forsythe turned back to Amelia.  He regarded her with an impenetrable stare for a moment before speaking, but his voice had now lost the edge of fury with which he had greeted them and Amelia dared to hold some hope, despite his accusatory words.

“I sent you to find information, lieutenant.  Not start a damned revolution.”

“I know, sir,” said Amelia.  “But if not now, when? What better time to speak than when Bellinger’s here and can actually do something about it?”

For a moment, she saw what might have been a glimmer of approval in the elderly captain’s eyes, but then the cabin door opened again and Commander Chad stepped inside, touching his hat in salute.

“Lookouts have sighted an NHC vessel approaching the city from the northeast, sir - we think it’s the  _ Clarissa Fitzgerald _ .”

“Signal them as soon as they’re in range and tell them to keep their distance, Commander!”  Forsythe stood. “And arrange for additional security with the master-at-arms when we welcome our guests.  We’ll have to use spacers since we can’t spare any marines.”

“Very good, sir.”

“And signal the Settlement.  Address to Mr Drummond. Tell him to be on this ship in no more than an hour.”  Forsythe held up a single finger to accentuate the point. “This is not subject to negotiation.”

“Aye, sir.  Drummond here in one hour.”  Chad nodded.

“Make it happen, Commander.  Dismissed.” Forsythe glanced at Amelia as Chad left.  “You’d best be off as well, lieutenant, and get back into uniform.  You as well, Mr Chaupi. I don’t want to have to answer too many questions about this.”

  
  
  


The Company longboat drew up to the side of the  _ Resolute _ until its battered yellow-painted side bumped into the railing.  Four figures climbed off it and onto the warship’s deck - watching as she came back on deck from changing into uniform, Amelia saw Drummond, Bellinger, Cathcart and Maillu, who were met by Chad and escorted to Forsythe’s cabin under the watchful eye of the master-at-arms and a number of hand-picked armed spacers.  She waited discreetly before following them. A couple of tables had been set up in the cabin, at one of which sat Nasisa, behind the satchel of documents. Cathcart was regarding her with barely-disguised hostility. Bellinger was quiet, and from his appearance - rumpled clothing and with a shadow of stubble on his chin - she guessed that he had been caught sleeping by the situation and was still trying to gain his bearings - and Maillu seemed to avoiding eye contact with Chaupi, who was glaring at him.  For his part, Drummond was evidently in the process of remonstrating with Forsythe - an activity which Amelia knew seldom ended well for any civilian foolish enough to attempt it. As Drummond’s voice rose, even Commander Chad, who was standing alongside the old man, started leaning away from the explosion he knew was coming.

"And in the interests of our shareholders, I must demand that you-"

"Demand, sir?" Forsythe roared, rising from his desk.  "You are in no position to demand anything of me! This ship and its crew are the only thing standing between you and a bloodbath! You assured us that the situation on this planet was under control and where are we now?  Either you know nothing of the true state of affairs, in which case I question your intelligence, or you didn't tell me, in which case I question your honesty. Neither leaves you with much standing to make demands!"

Drummond deflated.  "I...was merely going to ask that you ensure that no damage is done to our infrastructure while this situation is resolved, Sir Edmund."

"And I will.  But that also requires your cooperation. And yours, Ms Nasisa.  My forces will be watching both of yours very carefully. I expect that you will see to it that they need do no more than watch.  Because let me be clear: I have at my disposal a line-of-battle ship and a full company of Royal Marines, both tested in action, and  _ I will use them _ if you make me. Fire will be answered with fire, and let me assure you that I have more of it than both of you put together!"  Forsythe glared at Drummond and Nasisa. "And General Cathcart? The airspace over Port Machonochie is now under my control. If either of your little gunboats get too close to the city without my permission, I will turn them both into matchwood.  Is that clear?"

Cathcart seethed, but nodded stiffly.  "Perfectly, Captain." 

“And...just what is your plan to resolve the situation, Ivor?”  Bellinger looked at him.

“I, uh, would prefer to consult with Sir Edmund-” Drummond managed.  

“I would suggest that you have little choice in the matter,” said Forsythe.  “My proposal, Mr Bellinger, is to hold a hearing on this ship. Ms Nasisa alleges that the disclosures of the Company to you have been misleading.  She should have the chance to put her case forward. And of course, Mr Drummond, you should have your chance to respond.”

“A hearing?  But Captain, you must understand that I’m an inspector, not a judge-” Bellinger began to protest.

“And you must understand that I’m a naval officer, not a policeman, and this is a ship of war and not a courthouse!” Forsythe barked.  “And yet here we are! If anyone else has any ideas then I’m willing to hear them, but the longer this situation lasts the more dangerous it becomes, so it needs to be addressed  _ now _ before any blood is shed.”

“Yes, I do take your point,” Bellinger nodded.  “There appears to be no other choice.”

“You’re going to permit this?” said Cathcart incredulously.

“My remit from the Colonial Office doesn’t exclude it,” said Bellinger.  “And I must agree with the Captain that there seems no other way to resolve this standoff.  Ivor, do you agree?”

“I-” Drummond was clearly nervous.  “Well, I’d need to consult with our lawyers-”

“There’s no need for lawyers, sir,” said Amelia.  “Like Mr Bellinger said, he’s not a judge. And like the Captain said, this isn’t a court.”

“Well, no, but…”  Drummond coughed. “What will the outcome of this hearing be?”

“It will form part of the inspection,” said Forsythe.  “A  _ very significant part _ .  Is that not right, Mr Bellinger?”

Bellinger nodded.  “Oh, I should think so.”

“Very good.”  Forsythe turned to Chad.  “Take charge on the bridge, Commander.  I trust that my orders regarding the situation on the ground are clear?”

“Perfectly, sir.”  Chad saluted.

Forsythe nodded and turned back to the group as Chad left the room.  “Well, gentlemen, I’ll ask you to take your seats at the table. Mr Bellinger, join me at my desk.”

Amelia watched the various players take their places on the stage that had been assembled.  It was hard to think that the fate of an entire race, an entire planet, was about to be played out in the space of the  _ Resolute _ ’s grand cabin - but perhaps it was better not to think about that, because the stakes seldom came much higher.  That detachment, she knew, was a luxury that she had. One look at Nasisa and Chaupi told her that they were fully aware of the role that they now had to play.

“I think it best that we begin with you, Ms Nasisa,” said Forsythe.  “As the party bringing the claim, you should be the one to put it. Mr Drummond, you’ll have your chance to respond afterwards.  I’d ask that you not interject any sooner. That goes for you as well, General. Mr Bellinger, do these arrangements suit?”

“They sound perfectly fair to me, Captain,” Bellinger nodded.  He had clearly gathered himself and was attempting to exude a proprietorial air as if the impromptu hearing had been his idea all along.  Forsythe nodded across the room.

“Carry on, Ms Nasisa.  Speak.”

“Thank you, Captain.”  Nasisa stood up and moved in front of the table.  She acknowledged Forsythe and Bellinger with a gesture of offering like the one Amelia had seen Chaupi make, and then turned to Drummond and Cathcart to give what Amelia thought was a strangely respectful bow, though she noticed that Maillu stiffened and gripped the edge of the table tightly.

“Why would she bow to  _ Drummond _ , of all people?” Amelia whispered to Chaupi.

“That was not a bow,” Chaupi whispered back.  “See how Maillu reacted to it? For Capram, showing the top of the head like that is a challenge.  Even a threat. I mean…”

As the simplest way of showing what he meant, he briefly dipped his own head to Amelia, putting the mass of his curled horns on display.  The implication was clear even to Amelia.

“Ah.  Well, so long as that’s as far as she takes it,” she muttered.  “I’m not saying it wouldn’t be deserved, but it wouldn’t do your cause much good if the Captain has to break up a fight in here…”

“My name is Nasisa.  I am of the Clan Sabira.  But today I am here as a Capram.”  Nasisa’s voice was clear and betrayed none of the anxiety she was surely feeling as she addressed Bellinger.  “Twenty years ago, the Company came. They stayed here under a blanket of lies. No permission was ever given to them and they are here against the will of our people.”

“That’s not true!” shouted Drummond.  “We have the agreement of the-”

“I said that you will get your chance later, Mr Drummond!” snapped Forsythe.  

Nasisa brushed off the interruption.  “The Company was invited to stay only by a group of the governing elders of the Clan Hirca who saw an opportunity to seize power.  They did not speak even for all of their own people, and they did not speak for all of Capra. Whatever agreements they gave the Company and whatever promises they made were hollow.  The other clans never consented. The Council of Elders, which represents all of us, was never consulted.”

“Is this true, Ivor?” said Bellinger.  “The consent of the natives was assumed when the Colonial Office approved your warrant of trade.”

“And we obtained their consent,” said Drummond.  “This...Council of Elders isn’t like the Imperial Parliament.  It doesn’t always meet.”

“Is that so...Nasisa, was it?”  Bellinger looked back to her.

“It is true that the Council is only convened by necessity,” said Nasisa.  “It was not convened only because the Hircans did not permit it. But I did not come here to argue these points.  I came to tell you what has been happening to our people. If the Company has told you that we are well, they have lied.”

“Patience, Ivor,” Bellinger raised a hand to cut off the objection Drummond was about to make.  “In what ways are you...not well? I have received no reports of widespread violence or disease.”

“There is violence enough, and the constant threat of it,” said Nasisa.  “The Company has soldiers on every road, every bridge. They demand payment from travellers.  They rob them at the point of their weapons.”

“Of course we have security here. And there are armed police on the streets of every Imperial city,” said Cathcart.  “We’re sitting here on a ship that was literally built around its guns. Possession of the means of force doesn’t mean that we abuse it.”

“And the allegations of robbery, General?” said Forsythe.

Cathcart shrugged.  “If any cases can be identified, of course I’ll have them investigated.  I have hundreds of men under my command, Captain. I can’t swear that they’re all angels any more than you could about the hundreds of spacers under your command.  Don’t tell me that none of them have ever broken the law. I happen to know of at least a couple of cases of disorderly conduct since you arrived here.”

Forsythe glared.  “We’re not talking about...high spirits on a port visit, which I’ll grant is something I’m familiar with.  Ms Nasisa is alleging a pattern of behaviour on the part of your troops.”

Cathcart shrugged again.  “I can’t confirm or deny something I’ve no knowledge of Captain.  If she can provide details of any specific incident, we’ll have our lawyers look into it.”

Amelia gritted her teeth and could sense Chaupi’s tension beside her, no doubt also recalling their humiliation and extortion on the road to Quranaq.  But there was no way to tell the story.

“Every Capram who has travelled since you came here could provide you details,” Nasisa said, anger flashing in her eyes.  “But you never asked, and you would not have listened. Worse than robbery has happened because of the Company - things that you did not just ignore, but caused.”

“And just what are these things?” Bellinger waved a hand to draw her attention back to himself.  Nasisa complied, forcing herself to calm a little.

“Before the Company came,” she said, “Capram families were larger.  Most had many children. Now most have one, because that is all they can support.  In my village, I am a healer. I know how many children have been born to us. The elder healers say it was once more than ten in a year.  Last year, I saw none. It is because of food. There is no longer enough of it. And the Company controls its supply through its alliance with the Hircans.  Capram cannot trade food amongst ourselves now because the Company takes all that is grown. And if Capram do not obey the Company, they are punished by having no food sent to their village or to their family.” 

Bellinger frowned.  “Are you saying that the NHC is using hunger as a...weapon?”

Nasisa nodded.  “That is a way of saying it, yes.”

“Well, Mr Drummond?” said Bellinger.  “What say you to that?”

“Look...Robert,” Drummond raised a hand placatingly.  “You’ve read the briefing notes we made for you. The Capram are a primitive race.  Their culture hasn’t even developed the concept of money. Even now after we’ve been here working with them for so many years, most Capram beyond Port Machonochie don’t know how to use it.  Everything’s done on a barter system, so for the Company to buy goods and services from the Capram in the valley we have to pay them in commodities of some kind. Food is a basic, tradeable commodity, and one we can produce right here without having to import it.  And of course, when the goods and services we’ve bought are not delivered, payment is not made. It would work the same way on any Imperial planet.”

“But without the threat of starvation, sir,” said Amelia pointedly.

“If a trader relies on the cash income from his business to buy food for himself and his family, is it threatening starvation to refuse to pay him when he does not deliver?” Drummond argued.  “That’s normal business practice.”

“Well, Nasisa?” said Bellinger.  “I must say that Ivor has a point there.  It would be hard to engage with a culture like yours on a normal, commercial basis.”

“We understand the concept of trade,” said Nasisa acidly, clearly resenting the patronising tone.  “What we do not understand is using it to kill children. Mr Drummond is not telling the whole of the truth.  The Company controls all food growing. They can say what is grown and what is not, and what they say to grow is not always food.”

“Yes, I’ve seen the figures for tobacco and razorhemp exports,” said Bellinger.  “Rather impressive, I thought.”

“Whatever they are, every piece of those things is one less meal for our people,” said Nasisa.

“And it’s not just that,” Chaupi spoke up.  “The orders for goods the Company places are impossible to meet.  And so denying people food is inevitable. The Company must know that it demands more than can be done.”

“We set high targets,” said Drummond.  “Our shareholders expect us to make a profit.”

Nasisa’s eyes narrowed darkly for a silent moment. “Maybe I misunderstand the meaning of the word ‘profit,’ Mr. Drummond. Is it not a gain greater than the cost taken to obtain it?”

“Well, yes.  As is due to the person who creates and sells a product.  Otherwise, why would they bother, and how would people be able to buy things they need?”  Drummond clearly tried to keep the patronising tone out of his voice, and equally clearly failed.

“Our society always managed it,” said Nasisa.  “But that is not the point. The Company does not create anything.   _ We  _ do.  Our people do.  Because otherwise, you starve them.”

“We’ve invested millions of crowns in developing Capra,” protested Drummond.  “Tell them, Maillu!”

The Hircan story keeper seemed surprised to be drawn into the debate.  “It is true that there are now roads running across the valley, bigger dams to store more water than we ever built-”

“All for the Company’s benefit, though,” insisted Nasisa.  “The roads move the goods we make for them. The dams water the crops they force us to grow.  You are Hircan, Maillu, you know this. You are from a farming village. Where is that village now?”

“I don’t see how that matters,” said Bellinger.

“His village is now underwater, Mr Bellinger,” said Nasisa.  “That’s why it matters. It was flooded by a Company dam that was built to water the Company’s crops and to drain the riverbed for a gold mine.”

“The Hircans asked us to build it!” Drummond said.

“This is true,” said Maillu quietly.  “It was decided.”

“Decided by who, Maillu?  Anyone from your village? Or was it just you?”  Nasisa stared at him icily, but he didn’t meet her eyes.  “Did you even ask? Or did you decide not to bother when the Company said they’d give you your own Great House here in the port?”

Maillu looked away.  Drummond sighed and tried to get back onto the front foot.  “Look, Robert, all development comes at a cost. You know that.  The old is replaced by the new.”

“Yes, but as I said before, you  _ are _ supposed to conduct your business with the natives’ consent,” Bellinger pointed out.  “Are you certain you’ve been obtaining it fully?”

“The relevant elders have given us their agreement,” said Drummond.  “Consent doesn’t have to be unanimous. There will always be  _ some _ disagreement.”

“You did not permit us to show any!” said Nasisa.  “When we spoke, you silenced us. When we gathered together, you drove us apart as you tried to do today.  And when we fought, you killed.”

“Don’t pretend you haven’t got blood on your hands,” snarled Cathcart.  “I know how many of our people you’ve murdered.”

“I don’t claim our resistance to be without fault,” said Nasisa simply.  “We are not a violent people by nature. Our own conflicts are seldom resolved by violence.  But some of us choose extreme measures when more reasonable avenues are blocked by wilful ignorance-”

“That there have been some...regrettable incidents is an established fact,” interjected Bellinger, raising a hand.  “And I suggest that arguments about who started what are unlikely to bring us to a resolution. Do you agree, Captain?”

Forsythe nodded.  “Quite so. The matter at hand appears to be whether the Company obtained the Capram’s consent.”

“And we did,” insisted Drummond.  “What we’ve seen today is a demonstration by a few hundred malcontents out of a total population in the hundreds of thousands!  It’s not representative.”

“It’s all we could gather in the time we had,” shot back Nasisa.  “We doubled our number since arriving in the city. Surely that tells you how much support the resistance really has, even here under your noses, and how much the Company has been hiding.”

“It has been...unexpected,” said Bellinger.  “I take it there’s a good reason your intelligence assessments didn’t foresee this uprising, General?”

“Maybe the budget wasn’t sufficient.”  Cathcart shot a brief look at Drummond, making Amelia wonder if he was trying to distance himself from responsibility.

“And certainly we’ve always acted in good faith regarding the native sentiment,” said Drummond.

Nasisa scoffed.  “You cannot truly believe that, can you?”

“Can you prove otherwise?” Drummond challenged her.

Nasisa shook her head.  “No. But you can.”

Drummond laughed.  “Do you really believe-”

“Believe the words written by your own hand, Mr Drummond!” Nasisa picked up the satchel from the table behind her and tossed it across the room to land in front of Bellinger with a thud.  Startled, the inspector initially recoiled before frowning curiously.

“What’s this?”

“Open it, Mr Bellinger.”  Nasisa glared at Drummond.  “See for yourself.”

Amelia watched him open it and pick out the first of the documents.  Even from across the room, she recognised it as the one she had first studied on the train into the mountain.  There was a long few minutes while Bellinger read in silence, the room so quiet that she could hear the gentle creaking of the  _ Resolute _ ’s timbers as the hull was warmed by the sun.

_ “Under no circumstances should the Inspector and Naval visitors be permitted beyond Port Machonochie...or to solicit the views of the native populace,”  _ Bellinger read aloud, looking up with a frown.  “Mr Drummond? What’s the meaning of this? As a representative of the Colonial Office, I’m entitled to complete access to your operations here.”

“I...er, well, it was to ensure that there were no misunderstandings-”  Drummond had paled, clearly recognising the document. 

Bellinger appeared to ignore him and go back to reading it.  “According to this...you’ve known for a while that you’ve got problems here.  Problems you’ve gone to some lengths to conceal. From your shareholders, which is bad enough...but also from me, which is inexcusable.  What’s your explanation for that?”

“It’s normal business practice to keep some matters in confidence-”

“Not from Her Majesty’s Government,” said Bellinger, picking up another document.  “Your warrant of trade requires you to submit to inspection. And what’s this? A spreadsheet of your shortfalls in agricultural production?”

“We set high targets, Robert, as I said before,” Drummond sounded nervous.  “We use them to spur ongoing development. Capram farming practices are still very primitive.”

“Hm.  So you say.  Yet the razorhemp export figures you showed me three days ago said that you were anticipating increases in the harvest.  I’ve always had a good memory for numbers. And this spreadsheet says that you were actually failing to meet your targets all along.”  Bellinger was sitting up straighter, a note of anger entering his voice in a manner that Amelia found rather encouraging. “Misleading and deceptive conduct is illegal, you know.  If you’ve been making forecasts that you can’t factually support then your shareholders would have cause for action against you.”

“Surely a little creative embellishment isn't so serious as that.” It was clear that the businessman was floundering.

“Creative embellishment or no, you have more than demonstrated that your word is not to be trusted.  It seems clear, Mr Drummond, that I will have no choice but extend my initial investigative plans to further look into the the mess you have made of yourself here. And I can see now that it truly  _ is _ a mess if even a fraction of what has been accused here is true.” 

Amelia’s heart sank - true, Bellinger was at least taking them seriously, but an extended investigation could take weeks, and who knew what blandishments Drummond and his staff would spin for him in that time?  Fortunately, however, Drummond himself accidentally resolved that problem.

“Is that really necessary?  I mean, perhaps there have been some financial...irregularities, but I’m sure they’re just clerical errors.”

“Then I suggest you need to find some better clerks, given the number of them,” said Bellinger.  “But it’s more than that. You’ve clearly failed to comprehend the situation regarding the native population and your obligations to them.”

“But if we just gave them everything, it would destroy our profitability!  Our shareholders would revolt!” 

“They’re just Capram, Bellinger,” said Cathcart bluntly.  “What does it matter what they think?”

“It should matter a great deal to you, General.  You’re not without scrutiny in this situation, yourself, after all.” Bellinger was reading another document.  “This paper bears  _ your _ signature.  An after-action report, it seems.  Regarding the, ah, ‘pacification’ you call it, of a village called Hayinac.  Your report includes an estimated expenditure of nearly three thousand crowns in mortar ammunition from the  _ Fitzgerald _ and the  _ Jones _ .”

“What kind of pacification operation involves that volume of mortar fire, General?” asked Forsythe pointedly.  “That’s more ammunition than this ship expends in a double broadside.”

“One of our convoys had been attacked by bandits,” said Cathcart, arms folded defiantly.  “They were traced to Hayinac, but the locals said they knew nothing about it. They refused to surrender the suspects peacefully, as we requested, and so we were forced to use alternative methods to end the threat to our security.”

“How many people became casualties?” said Forsythe.

Cathcart look offended.  “None, of course.”

Forsythe was sceptical.  “Your mortars fired three thousand crowns’ worth of ammunition on a static target without causing any casualties?” 

“Oh. I thought you asked about  _ people _ .” Cathcart shrugged. 

A heavy silence fell.  Nasisa filled it, her voice quiet.  “There were one hundred and forty people in Hayinac.”

Cathcart didn’t react to the information.  “I wasn’t being paid to count them. The operation was successful.  That’s what mattered.”

Amelia felt Chaupi tense next to her and put a warning hand on his arm to stop him starting forward.  Nasisa was clearly fighting to keep her sudden rage in check, and even Maillu seemed to have blanched at Cathcart's cold dismissal.  But more importantly, so had Bellinger, who fixed Drummond with an accusatory stare.

“I cannot turn a blind eye to such an abuse of power as easily as you seem to have done, Mr Drummond, if your lack of action in this matter is anything to go by.  Her Majesty’s Government did not grant you exclusive commercial rights to Capra solely for your own enrichment. You’re supposed to be developing this world and preparing it for full admission to the Empire.”

Drummond seemed to sense that he’d lost the goodwill and rapport that he had been building the entire inspection.  “Y-yes, and of course we are, like I said before, with everything that we’ve built here. But you can’t expect us to cater for every malcontent and troublemaker-”

“From what I’ve seen, you haven’t even been aware of them!” Bellinger’s voice rose.  “No - actually - you  _ have _ been aware of them, but you haven’t been telling anyone.  Not your shareholders. Not the Colonial Office. And not me, even though, here and now, I  _ am _ the Colonial Office.  Ignorance, perhaps, could be excused, but malicious concealment of information and total disregard for native life are blatant breaches of your warrant of trade!”

“It wasn’t malicious!  We were trying to protect our stock value!  People have sunk millions into our operation here!” Drummond was panicking.

“Which means you’ve betrayed them, too,” Bellinger snapped.  “And no doubt they’ll have recourse to the courts to make good whatever you’ve cost them.  But, here and now, there’s only thing left for me to do.”

Drummond stared.  “You don’t mean-”

“Ivor Drummond of the New Horizons Company,” Bellinger began coldly.  “On behalf of Her Majesty Queen Illysa II and by the powers vested by her in her Colonial Office, and which reside in my hands as its representative and inspector, your warrant of exclusive trade with the world of Capra is revoked.  All legal rights and privileges granted to you on this planet are suspended with immediate effect. Your assets will be seized by the Colonial Office for redistribution to your stakeholders and any proper successors that I identify.”

“You can’t do that!” Drummond exclaimed.  “Who’ll be in charge here? The Capram can’t govern themselves-”

“They seem to have proven you wrong,” Bellinger nodded towards Nasisa.  “But you are quite right that control needs to be retained over this situation you’ve created.  Captain Forsythe?”

“Mr Bellinger?”  Forsythe seemed to have a satisfied note in his voice.

“As the representative of the Colonial Office, I am formally requesting naval support.  The official paperwork will be filed with the Admiralty in due course.”

“As the senior present officer of the Royal Navy, I grant your request,” said Forsythe.  “My forces will continue to maintain the peace and stand ready to render other such assistance as the Colonial Office may require.”

“Thank you.”  Bellinger bowed.  “Now, then-”

Cathcart tried to interject.  “My troops-”

“Will stand down and surrender their weapons into my keeping!”  Forsythe snapped, rounding on him in scorn. “As of this moment,  _ Mr _ Cathcart, you have no army.  You are little more than armed trespassers, and I will deal with you accordingly unless you cooperate.  Is that clear?”

Cathcart seethed.  “Perfectly clear, Captain.”

“Good.”  Forsythe glanced up at the others in the room.  “Now, I think we have one or two things to discuss regarding the...transition, so I’ll ask everyone aside from Mr Drummond and General Cathcart to step outside.  Lieutenant Amelia?”

Amelia stood to attention.  “Aye, sir. Mr Chaupi? Nasisa?  Follow me, please.”

  
  


They stepped onto the quarterdeck, the open air above them feeling like a liberation all by itself after the tension and confinement of the stateroom.  Amelia took a deep breath and looked around at her companions, who seemed to share the relief.

“That seemed to go rather well, if I may say so,” she smiled.

“It could hardly have gone better.”  Chaupi beamed at Nasisa. “You were perfect.”

Nasisa brushed it off, but couldn’t stop herself smiling back.  “Inaya was with me. As, of course, were you.”

“I am but a humble servant,” said Chaupi modestly.  He sniffed the breeze and sighed happily. “Ah, even the air smells a little freer now!”

“What will you do now?” asked Amelia.

Nasisa shrugged.  “We will have to tell everyone what has happened.  There will be much to prepare. Word will have to be sent to every corner of the valley.”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to help with that,” said Amelia.  “Since it sounds like we’ll be sticking around for a while yet.  Isn’t that so, Mr Chaupi?”

“Absolutely, ma’am.  Though in my case…” Chaupi grinned.  

Amelia laughed.  “Yes, I’m sure we can arrange an early discharge for you.  It’ll save you the trouble of jumping ship.”

The cabin door behind them opened and Maillu emerged alone.  The Hircan saw the group standing by the rail, but dropped his gaze and crossed to the other side of the quarterdeck, where he leaned on the railing, looking out over the city.  Chaupi looked at Nasisa, who was watching him not unsympathetically.

“I suppose we have to begin somewhere,” she murmured.  “Chaupi?”

He nodded.  “I think you’re right.”

To Amelia’s surprise, they left her to join Maillu.  She waited a moment before joining them.

“You probably think the worst of me,” said Maillu quietly.  “I would not blame you.”

“We have all had to make choices since the Company came,” said Nasisa.  “Yours was different to mine.”

Maillu nodded.  His shoulders drooped and his stance was heavy with failure and regret.  “I thought that the Company was here forever. And that being so, the only choice was to follow the future or be swept aside.  I won’t pretend that I did not have...narrower considerations for myself and my family. But I never meant any harm to our people.”

“You cooperated with those who did,” said Chaupi, but it was a statement of fact rather than accusation, and Maillu only nodded again.

“I like to think that I made it...less bad than it might have been,” he said.  “I gave advice where I could, asked for leniency...it did not always work, but sometimes it did.”

“Like at Hayinac?” said Chaupi.

Maillu looked down.  “That was General Cathcart.  Drummond would sometimes listen to me, but Cathcart never did.”

“Given how he regarded your people, I’m not surprised,” said Amelia.

Maillu nodded.  “Yes. Not everyone in the Company was bad, but some, like him…”

“Justice will be done,” promised Nasisa.  “And you can help us.”

Maillu looked sceptical.  “You would trust me?”

“We must all trust each other now,” said Nasisa.  “We have a way of life to save, and a new world to build.  It will need all Capram, together. Hircan and everyone else.  We cannot let ourselves be divided again. We will need people like you, who can reach out to others who made the same decision.”

Maillu gave a small smile.  “I am a fool, but not an idiot.  Whatever you ask of me, I will do.”

Amelia exchanged approving glances with Chaupi.  There would be much reconciliation to do before the Capram could come to terms with the experience of occupation, but it appeared to be off to a good start.  She looked down at the city below, where the thin red line of Arrow’s marines still kept the peace, though it seemed like there wasn’t much need for it any more - the soldiers of the defunct Company had withdrawn behind their walls, and the Capram appeared to have started an improvised street party around a number of cooking fires that had been lit in the main road.  There was something in the air, an indefinable sense of history returning to its correct course, a fundamental wrong having been put to right. A shroud had been lifted and the universe itself seemed to be breathing more easily. And so, Amelia realised, was she - and not just because of the relief at the mission having been completed. Whatever doubts she had harboured, she knew she had overcome them.  

“It’s a new chapter,” she murmured.

“Ma’am?”  Chaupi had overheard her and was looking at her curiously.  

“Nothing, Mr Chaupi,” said Amelia.  “Just thinking about...the future…”

Chaupi seemed to understand.  “It’s looking bright, ma’am.”

Amelia nodded.  “That it is,” she smiled.  “That it is…”

  
  


The smile remained as Amelia looked down at the  _ nay _ in her lap.  It was well into the early hours of the morning, but Doppler hadn’t even thought of interrupting her tale.

“Well,” he said, sensing that it had ended at last.  “That’s...quite the story. And I suppose that’s why you stayed on in the Navy?”

“Yes.  It taught me that there was more than just duty.  That there could also be justice.” Amelia nodded, and then looked wry.  “Of course, one doesn’t always find it…”

“No. But it seems to come good in the end.”  Doppler patted her hand. “I recall reading about the collapse of the New Horizons Company and all the class actions that followed it, but I never bothered looking into why.  Business and markets were never one of my interests.”

“You wouldn’t have learned the truth even if you had followed the story,” said Amelia.  “In the interests of the Navy, the Colonial Office and the good relations between them, it was decided that it would be better if my part in it hadn’t happened and the whole thing was portrayed as an entirely spontaneous uprising that the Company simply lost control of.  Which it was, really. I don’t flatter myself that I was indispensable in the whole thing.”

“I think you underestimate yourself.”  Doppler smiled. “So what happened next?”

“Well, Nasisa was chosen to lead the new Council of Elders that the Capram appointed.   Capra was designated an Imperial protectorate and given observer status at Parliament, pending full accession to the Empire in due time.  And Chaupi was named as their first ambassador,” said Amelia. “That’s why he was there when the Procyons attacked.”

“Ah, I was going to ask about that.  So that’s why he was at the anniversary celebrations tonight.” Doppler smiled.  

“Exactly.”  Amelia smiled back.  “He insisted on making me an honorary member of his clan, especially when he found out that the Navy wasn’t going to admit to any part of what happened.  He said it was important that the story be acknowledged. Maybe in time the whole truth will come out, but until then-”

“It’s just the  _ ina _ ?” Doppler smiled.

Amelia laughed.  “Quite so, my love.  Well done.”

Doppler kissed her and took a moment to gaze lovingly into her green eyes.  “I had a good teacher.”

Amelia chuckled and kissed him back.  “Not as good as mine. Let’s get ready for bed.  I’ve kept you up long enough.”

“It was worth it.”  Doppler stood up, holding her hand.  “You know I couldn’t be prouder of having married you, right?”

“Oh, tish-tosh.”  Amelia smiled. “You can have the bathroom first, dear.”

Doppler nodded his thanks, kissed her again and turned to go.  Amelia stayed a while longer, looking at the colourful  _ nay  _ in her hands, and remembering.

 

_ \- The End - _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for joining us on this journey! It has certainly been a labor of love for us. If you would like to read more of our stories, one-shots and multi-chapter adventures that both Firefall and I have written, you can find us at [Sector Crescentia](https://sectorcrescentia.tumblr.com/)


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